:5V; 






















































































: 






























LOCHLEVEN, 



OTHER POEMS, 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 



WITH A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR FROM 
ORIGINAL SOURCES, 



THE REV. WILLIAM MACKELVIE, 

i 

J3ALGEDIE, KINROSS-SHIRE. 



EDINBURGH : 
PUBLISHED BY M. PATERSON, 7 UNION PLACE. 

MDCCCXXXVII. 






35Y<JS"I 



PRINTED BY NEILL AND CO. OLD FISHMARKET. 



.EMBERS OF THE DICK CLUB, 



THIS VOLUME 



IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 



BY THEIR SECRETARY, 



THE EDITOR. 



PREFACE. 

The Dick Club, under whose auspices this 
volume is published, is an Association of those 
Ministers and Preachers who studied Theology 
under the late Rev. Dr Dick of Glasgow. At 
a meeting of this Association, many of the facts 
stated in the following narrative were detailed 
by the writer, whose residence in the imme- 
diate vicinity of the poefs birth-place afforded 
him peculiar opportunities of becoming ac- 
quainted with them. These facts were con- 
sidered so interesting by the meeting, that a 
unanimous wish was expressed that they should 
be embodied in a short paper, and sent to some 
of the periodicals. This the narrator readily 
consented to do, and had begun to prepare his 



V11I PREFACE. 



communication, when the gentleman, whose 
name appears on the title-page as publisher, 
proposed to him to draw up a new Life of 
Michael Bruce containing these statements, 
and he would publish it, with a new edition of 
his Poems, free of all expense, save that incur- 
red by paper and printing. The Dick Club had 
previously been entertaining the intention of 
raising a subscription to complete a monument 
erected to the memory of our poet in Portmoak 
burying-ground. The generous offer of Mr 
Paterson at once appeared to the Editor as a 
more likely way of securing a sufficient sum for 
this object than the proposed subscription, and 
he therefore consented to his proposal. 

Such is the history of this book. But, though 
it appears under the patronage of an Associa- 
tion of Ministers, the Editor is alone respon- 
sible for what it contains. The gentlemen who 
expressed a wish for the publication of the state- 
ments made to them, cannot be understood as 
in any way pledging themselves to the truth of 
the narrative. Many things are here stated 
which were not communicated to them, having 



PREFACE. ix 

only become known to the writer in the further 
investigation of his subject ; and, therefore, 
whatever animadversions are made upon the 
work, or upon the motives which prompted it, 
ought to be confined wholly to the Editor, for 
the origin, as well as the execution of it, rests 
properly with him. 

But he is conscious of having written as if 
upon oath, and therefore he feels indifferent to 
any animadversions which may be made upon 
his statements. Nor is he much more con- 
cerned about approbation, for he already en- 
joys a higher reward than it is in the power of 
the public to bestow — the reward of a pleasing 
consciousness of having done an act of justice 
to injured worth. 

Had the first Editor of Bruce's Poems faith- 
fully discharged the trust reposed in him, the 
present Editor had been able to respect the 
long-received maxim, " Let nothing be said of 
the dead but what is favourable." But Mr 
Logan having failed in this, it was impossible 
for the writer to respect the maxim except at 
the sacrifice of truth ; and truth, it is allowed, 



X PREFACE. 

is still more worthy of respect than the cha- 
racter of the deceased. Hence the maxim is 
now generally amended, by substituting verum 
for bonum, and rendered, " Let nothing be said 
of the dead but what is true." Thus altered, full 
honour has been paid to the maxim in the fol- 
lowing pages. 

Balgedie, Kinross-shire, 
1st August 1837. 



%* The paragraphs in the Life. of Bruce have been 
numbered for the sake of easy reference, and to make them 
thus serve as notes to the Poems. 



CONTENTS. 



Life of Michael Bruce, . . . Page 1-173 

Talents and character of the Poet's father, f[ 2, 
3. — Character of his Mother, 4. — Brother's ta- 
lents for Rhyme, 5. — Brace's birth-place, 6. — In- 
troduction to school, 7- — Sent to herd, 8. — Early- 
devotional feeling, 10. — Rapid progress at school, 
11. — Character of Mr David Pearson, 12. — Cha- 
racter of Mr John Birrel, 13. — Character of Mr 
William Arnot, 15. — Character of Mr David 
Arnot, 16. — Difficulties upon leaving school, 17> 
18. — Introduction to the University, 20. — Weav- 
ing spiritualized, a poetical letter to his brother, 
21. — Mr Logan's life and character, 22. — Notice 
of Mr William Dryburgh, 23. — Occasion of the 
Poem " The Last Day," 24. — Occasion of the 
Fable of the Eagle, Crow, and Shepherd, 25. — 
Pecuniary difficulties, 27. — Application for ad- 
mission to the Antiburgher Moral Philosophy 
class, 28. — The Country Funeral, a letter to a 
friend, 30. — Success at College, 31. — Engages as 
teacher at Gairny Bridge, 32. — " Fall of the 
Table," a poetical letter to Mr Flockhart, 32.— 



Xll CONTENTS. 

Character as a teacher, 33. — Dialogue on school 
fees, 34. — Attachment to Miss Grieve, 35. — Pro- 
jected publication of his Poems, 36. — Admission 
to Divinity Hall, 37. — Reason for leaving Gairny 
Bridge, 39. — Removal to Forrest Mill, 40.— 
Writes Lochleven, 43. — Returns to Kinnesswood, 
46.— Writes " Ode to Spring," 47.— Last letter 
to Pearson, 48. — Mr Lawson's visit, 50. — Bruce's 
death, 51. — Character, 52, 55. — Criticisms on 
Bruce's Poems, 58, 66.— Logan's visit to Kinness- 
wood, 67- — Evidence of Logan's appropriating 
Bruce's Hymns, 70, 76. — His father's visit to 
Edinburgh, 77- — Evidence of Logan's appropriat- 
ing Bruce's Ode to the Cuckoo, 79, 86. — Evidence 
that the Episode to Levina, and other pieces 
claimed for Logan, are not his, 87. — Lawsuit aris- 
ing out of the publication of Bruce's poems, 88, 
99. — Strictures on Logan's prose works, 100, 102. 
Edmund Burke's visit to Logan, 103. — Lord 
Craig's paper in the Mirror, 104. — Mr Hervey's 
attentions to the poet's mother, 105. — Principal 
Baird's edition of Bruce's works, 106, 110. — Let- 
ter from Mrs Keir of Rhynds, 111. — Imposition 
of Dowie, 112.— Funeral of Mrs Bruce, 116.— 
Bruce's monument, 118.— Lord Chief Commis- 
sioner's letter to Mr Birrel, 119.— Reflections, 
120, 122. 

Encomiums ox Bruce. 

Elegiac Yerses on his Death, . . .174 

Verses addressed to the Mother of Michael 

Bruce ; by a Lady, 176 

Lochleven, .177 

Notes to Lochleven, 206 

The Last Day, . 211 



CONTEXTS. 



Xlll 



Odes and Hymns, 

To the Cuckoo, 

To a Fountain, 

Danish Ode, 

Danish Ode, 

To Paoli, 

The Complaint of Nature, 

Heavenly "Wisdom, 

The Millennium, 
Miscellanies, 

Alexis ; a Pastoral, 

An Epigram, . 

Damon, Menalcas, and Melibceus ; an Eclogue, 

Pastoral Song, 

Lochleven no More, .... 

Sir James the Ross ; an Historical Ballad, 

The Eagle, Crow, and Shepherd ; a Fable, 

The Musiad ; a Minor Epic Poem, 

Anacreontic ; to a Wasp, 

To John Millar, M.D., on recovering from a 
dangerous fit of Illness, .... 

Yerses on the Death of the Rev. Wm. M'Ewen, 

Philocles ; an Elegy on the Death of Mr Wil- 
liam Dryburgh, 

Daphnis ; a Monody to the Memory of Mr 
William Arnot, son of Mr David Arnot of 
Portmoak, near Kinross, .... 

Elegy ; written in Spring, . . . . * 

Eclogue ; in the manner of Ossian, 

The Vanity of our Desire of Immortality here; 
a Story in the Eastern Manner, 



237 
239 
242 
244 
246 
248 
254 
258 
259 
261 
263 
266 
267 
272 
274 
276 
287 
288 
293 

296 
298 

299 



303 
308 
313 

317 



LIFE 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 



LIFE 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 



1. The parentage of those who have been celebrated 
for their worth or genius, has not always been such as 
to allow their biographers to make it the subject of 
particular notice, although, in all cases, it is desirable 
to know what peculiar influences in the histories of 
such persons may have operated in forming or modify- 
ing their characters. In some instances these cannot 
be alluded to, even remotely, without making the 
party affected suffer by the contrast ; while survivors 
connected with them feel themselves injured by what 
they are apt to consider an unnecessary exposure. 
Happily such hinderances to a detailed account of our 
poet's parents do not exist ; whilst that account, in our 
opinion, is especially called for, in consequence of the 
erroneous impressions conveyed by the very brief state- 
ments which have hitherto been made respecting them. 

A 



2 LIFE OF 

2. Alexander Bruce, our poet's father, was by trade 
a weaver, in which vocation he is allowed to have ex- 
celled most others in his parish. It is, nevertheless, 
admitted, that in that vocation there were others more 
diligent than he ; not that he was idly disposed, for he 
was always busy ; but it was as often with his book as 
with* his loom, and it is conceded by his friends that it 
had probably been better for those dependent upon 
him if his business had called him to mental rather 
than manual labour. His education had been neglect- 
ed in his youth, or rather we should say that then, as 
is still too much the case, education was not sufficient- 
ly valued by the class to which he belonged, and he 
was therefore considered to have received enough when 
he had been only one or two quarters at school. But 
though, in the common acceptation of the phrase, he 
was an uneducated man, he was not so in fact ; for he 
was self taught, and, as is often the case, succeeded by 
this tuition in attaining more knowledge than many 
possessed of superior advantages. He was endowed by 
nature with a strong mind, which he enriched by ex- 
tensive reading and accurate observation. He was a 
pre-eminently pious man, and as such his presence was 
much sought after by the sick and the dying. Not- 
withstanding his very humble circumstances in life, he 
was chosen by popular election (as is always the case 
in the Secession Church), an elder of the congregation 
of Milnathort, under the pastoral superintendence of 
the Rev. Thomas Mair, consisting at the time of about 
two thousand members, many of whom were not only 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 



proprietors of land, and in otherwise comfortable cir- 
cumstances,, but were also remarkable for their intelli- 
gence and acquirements.'' 3. In the evening his house 
was the regular haunt of the young men of the parish 
who cared for rational entertainment or improvement. 
and several of the Octogenarians yet alive, whose 
knowledge and judicious thinking are generally ad- 
mitted are ready to acknowledge, that for much of their 
information, and peculiar modes of thought, they are 
indebted to Alexander Bruce. t The remark, there- 
fore, of Logan, which has been repeated by all the 
subsequent biographers of the poet, that fi he was de- 
scended from parents remarkable for nothing but the 
innocence and simplicity of their lives/' does not con- 
vey a correct idea of what they really were ; under- 
standing this remark to imply that the talents of Alex- 
ander Bruce were rather below than above mediocrity. 



* Mr John Miller, proprietor of the lands of Eallingall, and 
Mr David Arnot, proprietor of the lands of Portmoak, were 
both members of this congregation. Such was the public con- 
fidence in the scholarship and integrity of these gentlemen, 
that they were invited to take part in the examinations of 
candidates for parochial schools, in all the neighbouring pa- 
rishes, whenever an election took place. 

•j- " It may be affirmed, without flattery, that, to the pre- 
sent day, the inhabitants of that parish (Portmoak, in which 
Kinness-wood is situated) generally speaking are superior to 
many in respect to the attainments in Christian knowledge, 
and their marked veneration for godliness, sobriety, and ho- 
nesty." — Life of the Rev, Ebenezer Erskine, by Dr Donald 
Eraser.— P. 201. 



4 LIFE OF 

Mr David Pearson, (of whom some account will be 
given in the sequel) was constrained to draw up a me- 
moir of him that appeared in the " Missionary Chro- 
nicle" for May 1797, in which he affirms that Bruce 
was familiar with the writings of the most eminent 
divines, both of his own and former times, extensively 
read in ancient and modern history, and cc mighty in 
the Scriptures/' This testimony of Pearson to the 
elder Bruce's intelligence only corroborates that of his 
son, for our poet is known to refer to his father in his 
poem of Lochleven, when he says 

" I knew an aged swain whose hoary head 
Was bent with years, the village chronicle, 
Who much had seen, and from the former times 
Much had received. He hanging o'er the hearth 
In winter evenings, to the gaping swains 
And children circling round the fire, would tell 
Stories of old, and tales of other times." 

In short, whilst Schiller, and Goethe, and Thomson, 
and Sir Walter Scott, have all ascribed much of their 
talents and genius to the early cultivation of their 
powers by their mothers, with Allan Cunningham* and 
Robert Bums,t Michael Bruce must be considered as 
greatlv indebted to his father. 



* "He (the father of Allan Cunningham) was, as all who 

have read the writings of his son will readily believe, a man 

of remarkable talents and attainments ; he was a wise and 

a good man."— LocMarfs Life of Burns.— P. 190. 

•j- " I have met with few," (said the poet after he had him- 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 5 

3. It is not only insinuated of Alexander Bruce that 
he was illiterate, but also that he was illiberal— that 
as he was below others in point of intellect, so he was 
beyond them in point of bigotry. Had such a suspi- 
cion been thrown out against him in his own day it 
would have been regarded by most of those who knew 
him as intended for irony ; for he was considered by 
what was then deemed the sober thinking portion of 
the community, so liberal as to have become heretical. 
So little respect did he pay to the long received opi- 
nions of the religious denomination to which he origi- 
nally belonged, that he suffered himself to be ejected 
from it, along with the clergyman upon whose minis- 
trations he attended, for nonconcurrence in its creed.* 
The insinuation of illiberality on the part of the poet's 
father is founded on the postscript of a letter written 
by his son to Mr Arnot of Portmoak, his early friend 
and patron. " I ask your pardon/' says he, " for the 
trouble I have put you to by these books I have sent. 
The fear of a discovery made me choose this method. 
I have sent Shakspeare's Works, 8 vols., Pope's Works, 



self seen a good deal of mankind) "who understood men, 
their manners, and their ways equal to my father." — Letter 
of Burns to Dr Moore, as quoted by Lockhartin his Life of the 
Poet—V. 10. 

* The Rev. Thomas Mair, together with all who adhered to 
him, who were not less than two thousand examinable per- 
sons, besides children, were ejected from the Anti-burgher 
Synod for holding that " there is a sense in which Christ died 
for all men." 



O LIFE OF 

4 vols., and Fontenelle's Plurality of Worlds." The 
discovery which the poet feared is understood by his 
biographers to have been his father's coming to the 
knowledge of his having purchased such books.* But 
so far was Alexander Bruce from interdicting his son's 
perusal of the poets, that he borrowed or bought for 
his use every book of poetry that came in his way. It 
is a scene yet well remembered by those who witness- 
ed it when the father of our poet w r ent down to a book- 
stall, at one of the fairs in the place, with Michael, 
then a mere child, in his hand, and inquired for the 
poems of Sir David Lindsay, the Burns of his day. 
The vender of knowledge did not happen to have the 
book, but upon learning that it was intended for the 
child before him, was so surprised that he should wish 
it, that he took up a little volume entitled, " A Key 
to the Gates of Heaven," and promised to give it to 
him, on condition that he would read a portion of it 



* "But poverty was not the only difficulty with which the 
youthful Bruce had to contend. He had also the narrow pre- 
judices of worthy but illiberal parents, who seem to have 
regarded general learning as unnecessary, if not positively 
mischievous. Bruce could not but feel how unnatural these 
prejudices were — what injustice they did to those powers and 
aspirations with which he was endowed, and which glowed 
within him. He was too dutiful a son, however, to give his 
parents any offence, and accordingly, when about to return 
home from College he took the precaution of sending Mr Ar- 
not such volumes in his possession as he thought his father 
would disapprove of." — Penny Cyclopcedia, article Michael 
Bruce. 



MICHAEL BRUCE- 7 

upon the spot, which being done to his satisfaction, he 
awarded him the prize. That it was not the fear of a 
discovery that he had been reading Shakspeare which 
led our poet to send the books to the house of his 
friend Arnot rather than to his father's residence, is 
rendered evident from the fact, that he did not hesitate 
to commend and vindicate the immortal dramatist in 
his father's presence, as he did one day to Mr John 
Birrel, who, having admitted that the poetry and fic- 
tions of Shakspeare were most excellent, objected to 
the profanity which often appears in his works, to which 
young Bruce replied, u It is the design of dramatic 
poetry to portray human character, and therefore the 
persons introduced must be made to speak in the lan- 
guage which is known to be common to them/' And 
as to Pope's works, iC the fear of a discovery" could not 
refer to them, for they formed a part of old Bruce's 
own library ; at least, an edition different from that 
referred to by Michael was found among his other 
books after his death, and sold by Mr Birrel along 
with his other effects. The fear of a discovery refers, 
we presume, not to the kind of books which our poet 
had purchased, but to their quality and the time of 
their purchase. Michael's taste was such, that he was 
impatient to furnish himself with the best editions of 
his favourite authors,* and he had good reason to be- 
lieve that the sound judgment of his father would dis- 

* Several of Bruce's Latin Classics are at present in pos- 
session of the writer. They are printed by Elzevir, and as such 
regarded valuable by classical scholars. 



8 LIFE OP 

approve of his buying such books at such a time ; see- 
ing that it was with the greatest difficulty that the 
finances necessary for his support had been raised 
during the two sessions at College which he had now 
attended, and it was not known where funds could be 
procured for the further prosecution of his object. In 
order, therefore, to escape the censure which he felt he 
deserved, he committed his purchase and his secret to 
the safe keeping of one, whom he knew was not likely 
to speak of his folly to any but himself, and whose re- 
proofs, however severe, were not likely to pain him so 
much as those of a father whom he tenderly loved and 
highly esteemed. 

4. Ann Bruce, our poet's mother, who, though not 
previously related to her husband, was of the same 
name, a name which, though it could not honour the 
poet, the poet, peasant as he was, has in no small de- 
gree honoured. Ann Bruce was possessed of as much 
piety as her husband, though not of so much discre- 
tion. She was as forward in pronouncing an opinion 
as he was cautious in forming one, as gay as he was 
grave. She seemed formed for action, he for contem- 
plation, and accordingly she was the mainspring of all 
the movements in the family. The mother's liveliness, 
together with the fathers reflection, and the piety of 
both, descended upon Michael, and constituted a cha- 
racter which commanded universal love and esteem. 

5. These pious partners were the parents of eight 
children, of whom our poet was the fifth. Previous to 
the birth of Michael they adopted an amiable girl of 



MICHAEL BRUCE. V 

the name of Mary Miller, who had been left an orphan 
at the early age of ten, by the death of both parents. 
This child was Michael's nurse during his infancy, an 
office which he required somewhat longer than usual 
from the delicacy of his constitution. She was cherish- 
ed both by his father and mother with parental fond- 
ness, and they succeeded in imbuing her mind with 
pious feeling. After residing four years in the family, 
she died, pouring out blessings on the heads of her fos- 
ter parents. She was buried at their expense. All 
their own children were removed by death, at a com- 
paratively early age, except two, a son and a daughter. 
James, the last member of the family, with the excep- 
tion of one quarter at school, received no other educa- 
tion than what his father had been able to give him at 
home ; but his natural good sense made up for this de- 
ficiency, and enabled him to take his place among 
those who had been better educated. He, too, attempt- 
ed rhyme, and could string verses together with great 
facility. In this way he frequently furnished amuse- 
ment to the villagers, who would suggest a subject, 
and receive his thoughts upon it in verse before leav- 
ing his apartment. A number of these productions, 
chiefly in the Scottish dialect, and written after the 
manner of Ramsay and Fergusson, are still in circula- 
tion in the parish. Of these only one, entitled " The 
Farmer," consisting of about fifty stanzas, was printed, 
at the suggestion, we suppose, of some friend who must 
have valued it more for its wholesome advices than its 
poetry. It begins thus — 



10 LIFE OF 

O happy lot ! in Britain's isle 
To dress the field, to bid the soil 
Forego its barrenness, and smile 

In plenty clad, 
Nane had mair joy at farmers' toil 

Than ance I had. 

Up wi' the dawn I've held the pleugh, 
Or sawn the field, or thrash'd the mou, 
Or shorn the rig, or yard filled fu' 

Wi' stacks well figured ; 
Nae turn came wrang ; to work I trow 

I was nae niggard. 

These days are gane ! oh ! weel I ween 
Now sixty-five times I hae seen 
Spring robe the Lamond Hill wi' green 

Awa I'm wearing 
But still to farmer lads a keen 

True love I'm bearin'. 

6. Michael Bruce, the author of the following 
Poems, was bom at Kinnesswood, in the parish of 
Portmoak, a village mean in itself, but beautiful in its 
locality, being situated upon the south-west declivity 
of the Lomond Hills, and north-east banks of Loeh- 
leven. The house still stands in which he received his 
birth. It consists of two stories, with a thatched roof, 
in the centre of a narrow lane, which runs up the hill 
from the main street, the upper flat of which was oc- 
cupied by our poet's family. This flat consisted pro- 
perly only of one apartment, and served at once for a 
work-shop and a dwelling-house. No visitor to this 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 11 

humble dwelling, acquainted with the writings of 
Washington Irving, will fail to apply his description 
of Shakspeares birth-place to that of Michael Bruce : 
" It is a true nestling place of genius, which delights 
to hatch its offspring in bye-corners." The interior of 
the house, and the adjoining garden, have been pathe- 
tically described by Dr Huie, himself a poet, in the 
" Olive Branch" for 1831. "On returning," says he, 
" to Kinnesswood (from Portmoak church-yard, where 
Bruce is buried), I attended my venerable guide to the 
lowly dwelling where the parents of the poet resided. 
We first entered the garden. ' This/ said Mr Birrel, 
( was a epot of much interest to Michael. Here he 
used alternately to work and to meditate. There stood 
a row of trees which he particularly cherished, but they 
are now cut down/ added the good old man, and as he 
said this he sighed. c Here, again/ said he, e was a 
bank of soft grass on which Michael was accustomed 
to recline after he became too weak to walk ; and here 
his father would sit beside him in the evening, and read 
to amuse him/ We next entered the house. I expe- 
rienced an involuntary feeling of awe when I found 
myself in the humble abode where neglected worth and 
talents had pined away and died. The little square 
windows cast but a feeble light over the apartment, 
and the sombre shades of evening (for the sun had now 
set) were strikingly in unison with the scene. ' There/ 
said my conductor, c auld Saunders used to sit at his 
loom. In that corner stood the bed where the auld 
couple slept ; in this the bed which was occupied by 



12 LIFE OF 

Michael,, and in which he died/ The good old man's 
eyes filled as he spake. I found it necessary to wipe 
my own. I was not ashamed of my tears. They were 
a tribute to departed genius,, and there was nothing 
unmanly in their flow." 

7. From the moment that his children were capable 
of distinguishing the letters of the alphabet, it was the 
great object of Alexander Bruce to make them master 
of them. Under his father s instructions, Michael had 
acquired the power of reading with facility before he 
had reached his fourth year, at which age he was sent 
to the parish school, then only a few doors from his 
own home, with the Bible for his lesson book. The 
master was surprised at what he considered the stupi- 
dity of his parents, in furnishing their child with the 
sacred volume instead of the Shorter Catechism ; the 
sheet through the medium of which children were then 
initiated in the art of reading. His surprise, however, 
was transferred from the parents to the child, when, 
upon asking him to shew what he could do, he com- 
menced reading with fluency at the place pointed out 
to him. At the end of the first week, he was consi- 
dered by his instructor to have been long enough among 
the easy lessons of the Gospels, and was therefore en- 
joined to bring with him, upon his return, the book 
read by the more advanced class. Into the other 
branches of learning acquired in boyhood he was in- 
troduced proportionably early. That he was able to 
write by the time he was six years of age, appears from 
a letter of his own to his friend Pearson. " I could 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 13 

write/' says he, u or, at least, scratch my name, with 
the year 1752 below it. In that year I learnt the ele- 
ments of pencraft, and now let me see — 1752 from 
1766 leaves fourteen, a goodly term for one to be a 
scholar all that time." But although at the period at 
which he thus wrote Michael Bruce had been fourteen 
years a scholar, he had not been fourteen years at 
school. He was often unable to attend from ill health ; 
for the wasting disease which brought him to a prema- 
ture grave was engendered in his constitution at his 
birth, and was imperceptibly strengthening itself in his 
delicate frame. His appearance, even then, indicated 
his tendency to phthisis. He was slenderly made, with 
a long neck, and narrow chest ; his skin white, and 
shining ; his cheeks tinged with red, rather than 
ruddy ; his hair yellowish, and inclined to curl. Such 
is the description of him which we have received from 
some of those who were his schoolfellows, and upon 
whom his interesting appearance, and aptitude to 
learn, seem to have made an indelible impression. 

8. But his attendance at school was more frequently 
prevented by the poverty of his parents than inter- 
rupted by disease. In order to procure the necessaries 
of life in greater abundance than their own personal 
abours admitted, they hired out each child to herd 
cattle as soon as it was capable of performing the task. 
In this service Michael was employed during six suc- 
cessive summers. His pastoral duties were chiefly 
performed on the Lomonds, the range of hills which 
rise behind his native village. Although deprived du- 



14 LIFE OF 

ring this period of the benefits of a living instructor, 
his mind was schooling itself in the elements of poetry, 
by imbibing those impressions which Nature, when she 
presents herself in the sublime and beautiful, never 
fails to make upon susceptible minds. Cowper affirms, 
that "the love of nature's works is born with all." But 
few appear to possess an exquisite relish for its beau- 
ties. Michael Bruce, however, child as he was, even 
then " looked round on nature and on life with the 
eye which nature bestows only on a poet." The im- 
pressions which he imbibed thus early remained with 
him, and were the same upon which he fell back, when 
in afterlife he was shut out from the society of kindred 
spirits, and deprived of such scenery as his eye could 
rest upon with delight. He then placed himself in 
imagination upon the knoll on which he had often re- 
clined when tending his herd, and lived over again 
those delicious moments when life was new, and when 
nature, for the first time, presented to him some of her 
loveliest scenes. His poem on ei Lochleven" is wholly 
made up of these reminiscences, and ought to be re- 
garded by the reader as the impressions of the shep- 
herd boy, clothed in the language of the student and 
the scholar. 

9. Most young persons feel the tending of cattle irk- 
some, as is manifested by their often-repeated question 
to passing travellers, " What is the time of day?" 
But Michael Bruce felt not thus. This mode of life 
seems to have comported with his feelings, especially 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 15 

when the scene of his duties lay upon the higher por- 
tions of the hills — 

" Where he could trace the cowslip covered hanks 
Of Leven, and the landscape measure round," 

and whence his eye could 

" Wander o'er all the various chequered scene 

Of wilds, and fertile fields, and glittering streams." 

This capability of communing with Nature kept him 
as cheerful, though alone, as the urchin who had ne- 
glected his charge to join his fellow cowherds in their 
childish sports. For all those whom chance threw in 
his way in this solitude, he had his little joke ready ; 
and, if he found them intelligent and communicative, 
he would get them to sit down beside him, and tarry 
till he examined them upon all they knew. The late 
proprietor of Upper Kinneston, a small estate upon the 
south-west declivity of the Lomond Hills, used to re- 
late, with much feeling, the amusing stories told him, 
and the strange questions put to him by Michael when 
herding his father's cattle, and how he would offer his 
services to carry the boy's meals to the hill for the sake 
of having half an hour's conversation with this inte- 
resting youth. 

10. Even thus early he manifested that his feelings 
were as deeply devotional as his mind was contempla- 
tive. His conversation was very generally about 
sacred things ; and the enjoyment he felt when any 
new thought connected with theology was suggested 
to him, was rendered obvious by his again reverting 



16 



LIFE OP 



to the topic after it had been dropt. When at any 
time his father was from home at the usual hour for 
family prayer, Michael, by the common consent of the 
household, led the devotions. It has been stated to 
the present writer, by a person who was once present 
upon an occasion of this kind, and was, besides, well 
qualified to judge of what was becoming in such cir- 
cumstances, that he was impressed with a sense of in- 
congruity in a child acting as the domestic minister in 
a family where there were at the time both a man and 
a matron ; but that, before the boy had concluded the 
service, he was so struck with the propriety of his 
language, the variety of scriptural allusions, the suit- 
ableness of the petitions, and the solemnity of the 
manner, that he could hardly permit himself to be- 
lieve that the boy whom he saw uttered the prayer 
which he heard. 

11. That our poet's progress in learning was greatly 
hindered by his frequent and long- continued absence 
from school, will be readily supposed by the reader ; 
but it is known that he was as diligent in the prose- 
cution of his studies when upon the hill-side, or by the 
c farmers ingle/' as when upon the form at school, or 
under his father's eye, with the task of the succeeding 
day prescribed to him. When attending upon a mas- 
ter's instructions, he had often to wait for his class- 
fellows to come up to him ; but, upon his return after 
a six months' absence, they did not require to wait till 
he should come up to them. Before a fortnight had 
elapsed, he was uniformly at the top of his class. Nor 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 17 

did this precedence at which he so speedily arrived, 
and which he so constantly maintained, excite any 
jealousy among his rivals, or suspicion that partiality 
was shewn to him. The greatest deference was un- 
hesitatingly rendered him, not only by those who had 
been more recently introduced to the school, but also 
by those who contended with him for the place of 
honour in his own class. Michael's word was of as 
great authority in the school as the master's. His 
presence quelled all quarrels, — to him the injured fled 
for protection, — and to him the disputant made his ap- 
peal. For this precedence, so universally conceded to 
him, it is not easy to account. Some boys fight their 
way to supremacy ; others, without either bravery or 
talent, appropriate it as belonging to them of right ; 
but Michael Bruce was too good-natured ever to at- 
tempt ascendency by conquest, and too modest ever to 
put forth claims to it of right. His peculiarity of man- 
ner was in all probability the cause of this deference ; 
for already he began to display individuality of char- 
acter, and might have served as the prototype of 
Beattie's Minstrel, although it is not likely that his 
existence was known to that bard. 
" Silent when glad, affectionate though shy, 
And now his look was most demurely sad, 
And now he laughed aloud, yet none knew why, 
And neighbours star'd, and sigh'd, and bless'd the lad ; 
Some deemed him wondrous wise, and some believed 
him mad." 

The same deference was paid him at home as at 

B 



18 LIFE OF 

school. All the family looked up to him as one in 
whose sagacity they had confidence, and whom they 
did well to consult in all their movements. His deli- 
cate frame stood out in strong contrast with their ro- 
bust persons, and constrained them to cherish him with 
all possible intensity of interest, as something pecu- 
liarly valuable, which they were in danger of losing. 
His dress was somewhat finer in texture than that of 
his brothers, and he paid some attention to its becom- 
ing adjustment. He is accordingly spoken of by those 
who still retain the recollection of him, as a pet, but 
not a spoiled child ; and he appears to have been the 
Joseph of the family, without provoking, which very 
rarely happens, the envy of his brethren. 

12. Michael Bruce was not more beloved by his re- 
lations, than by some of those whom the tide of life 
had thrown into the current along with him. Of two 
of these it is necessary, for reasons which will after- 
wards appear, that we take particular notice. David 
Pearson was apprentice to Brace's father, and continued 
some time to work with him as journeyman, sleeping in 
the house with Michael as his bedfellow. He was the 
poet's senior only by a year. He is justly described 
by Dr Anderson, in his Life of Bruce, as u a man of 
strong parts, and a serious, contemplative, and inqui- 
sitive turn, who had improved his mind by a diligent 
and solitary perusal of such books as came within his 
reach." He had almost no education, understanding 
by that term training at school ; but, like the subject 
of our narrative, he had a natural taste for poetry, 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 19 

which the older Bruce encouraged him to cultivate, 
and which he and the younger Bruce stimulated in one 
another. The whole of Pearson's manuscripts have 
been preserved, and are in possession of the writer of 
this narrative. It appears from these, that he and 
Bruce wrote upon the same subjects, for he has also a 
poem on Lochleven, an Ode to Spring, Thoughts on 
Weaving, &c. &c. A perusal of these manuscripts has 
recalled to our mind the following beautiful lines in 
Wordsworth's " Excursion," and impressed us with a 
deep conviction of their truth :— 

" Oh many are the poets that are sown 
By nature ; men endowed with the highest gifts — 
The vision, and the faculty divine ; 
Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse, 
Which, in the docile season of their youth, 
It was denied them to acquire, through lack 
Of culture, and the inspiring aid of books, 
Or, haply, by a temper too severe, 
Or a nice backwardness, afraid of shame." 

To this person Bruce was in the habit of repeating his 
poetical pieces while they were in progress, so long as 
they continued together, and of transmitting them to 
him in letters after he had left home. Notwith- 
standing the superior acquirements of the friends with 
whom Bruce became acquainted at the University over 
those of Pearson, he still cherished him with all tiie 
ardour which he felt towards him at the commence- 
ment of their friendship, and continued to address 
epistles to him till within a few weeks of his death.. 



20 LIFE OF 

No person had better opportunities than Pearson to 
know what our poet wrote, and, consequently, no one 
could be better able to give evidence on the subject, 
when evidence was wanted. The estimate which has 
been formed of his talents, shews that he was a com- 
petent witness, and his sterling integrity is still the 
subject of eulogium in the parish of Portmoak.* When 
no longer able to support himself, through the infirmi- 
ties of age, he had a comfortable provision afforded 
him by Mr White, one of the proprietors of the lands 
of Balgedie, by whom, as well as by all others who 
knew him, he was held in the highest respect. 

13. Another person, whom it is here necessary to 
introduce to the reader's notice, as one of whom he re- 
quires to know something in consequence of the fre- 
quent reference which will be made to him in these 
pages, is Mr John Birrel. This gentleman was the 
junior by a few years of Bruce and Pearson, but was 
very early in life admitted into the intimacy of both. 
He afterwards became the eider Bruce' s most intimate 
friend, and, by his intimacy with him, learned many 
of the particulars which will be detailed in the course 
of this narrative. Mr Birrel received a somewhat li- 
beral education, and followed land-surveying as his 
profession. He is the person referred to in Dr Huie's 



* " The friends of Logan think I have paid too much atten- 
tion to Mr Pearson's testimony ; but I think he is not disqua- 
lified from giving his testimony on this point by his want of 
learning. His integrity is admitted on all hands.''' — Letter 
from Dr Anderson to Mr John Birrel. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 21 

paper, which we have quoted, and Dr Anderson, in 
his life of Bruce, acknowledges himself indebted to him 
for a portion of the materials which he employed in 
drawing up his memoir of the poet. The Rev. Dr 
Fraser has also made public acknowledgment of obli- 
gation to him for information of which he availed him- 
self, when preparing the lives of Ralph and Ebenezer 
Erskine. Mr Birrel contributed several papers to the 
" Edinburgh Magazine," conducted by Dr Anderson ; 
as also to the u Perth Magazine/* the " Christian Re- 
pository/' " Christian Monitor/' and other periodicals. 
He is regarded as a man of sound judgment and un- 
doubted piety. Previous to the formation of the con- 
gregation at Balgedie, he was an elder of the Secession 
Church in Milnathort, under the pastoral superinten- 
dence of the Rev. Mr Porteous, since which, he has 
been senior member of session in the congregation of 
which the writer of this narrative is minister.* Mr 
Birrel is himself a poet, and has publicly appeared in 
this character in the periodicals to which we have re- 
ferred. Dr Anderson was so pleased with some spe- 
cimens of his poetical talents, that he pressed him to 
publish a volume of poetry, offering to assist him in the 
correction of his pieces. The original letter is now 



* Mr Birrel died whilst these sheets were preparing for the 
press, and among the last acts in which he was engaged, was 
furnishing the writer with evidence of the truth of some of the 
statements which he finds himself called upon to make in 
drawing up a new Life of Michael Bruce. 



22 LIFE OF 

beiore the editor, in which Mr Birrel declines compli- 
ance with this suggestion, giving as his reason, that his 
attention must bs called away for the present from 
poetry, to the performance of duties which he owed to 
a rising family.* 

14. By the time Michael Bruce had reached his 
eleventh year, his mind was so matured as to enable 
him to discuss with his friends what profession he 
should choose, and the means by which the qualifica- 
tions necessary for the discharge of its duties were 
likely to be obtained. It was his father's wish,' so 
soon as he perceived his aptness to learn, to educate 
him for the ministry ; but he despaired of being able 
to raise the funds requisite for so expensive an under- 
taking. But the son was even more bent upon the 
prosecution of this object than the father, and his de- 
termination defied all the hardships which he was ap- 
prised he would have to encounter, and all the priva- 
tions he would have to endure. It is certain, that he 
could not then form any adequate notion of what these 
hardships and privations would be ; but there is rea- 
son to conclude, from his perseverance, when he did 
come to know them experimentally, that his determi- 
nation would have been the same, although he had 
been able from the first to form the most distinct con- 



* The editor takes this opportunity of expressing his obliga- 
tions to the daughter of the late Dr Anderson, for the origi- 
nal letters of Messrs Pearson and Birrel to her father, with 
which she readily and kindly furnished him, upon request- 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 



23 



ception of them, and that he did not choose this pro- 
fession, as is too often the case, from a mistaken no- 
tion that it is an easy, as well as a respectable occupa- 
tion. 

1 5. It happened that the parochial schoolmaster had 
a son of much the same age with our poet, whom he 
wished to educate for the ministry, and who was after- 
wards ordained as pastor of the Presbyterian congre- 
gation in Maryport, Cumberland, in connection with 
the Church of Scotland. There were also some other 
children of portioners in the parish, whose parents 
wished them to be instructed in the elements of Latin. 
Of these, a class was formed, and Bruce joined it, by 
his master's desire as well as his own. The books re- 
quired during his study of this language at school, 
were either lent him b} 7 friends interested in his suc- 
cess, or purchased at second hand. It can readily 
be supposed that Mr Dun, who is known to have 
been an excellent classical scholar and an enthusiastic 
teacher, would bring his energies to bear upon a class 
in which his own son was a pupil, especially as he 
had resolved that he should pass immediately from 
his own school to the University, without receiving 
instructions from any other master. Of this class, 
Michael Bruce was uniformly at the top. The acqui- 
sition of the Latin language seemed to cost him about 
as little effort as the acquisition of his mother tongue ; 
and if his master had no reason to lament his de- 
ficiency of talent, neither had he to complain of his 
want of diligence. 



24 LIFE OF 

15. With the other four scholars, besides himself, 
who composed this class, he was upon terms of intima- 
cy; but to one of them in particular he formed the warm- 
est attachment. This youthful friend was the son of Mi- 
David Arnot, proprietor of Portmoak. William Arnot 
was a boy of lively parts, studious habits, and warm 
heart. In addition to a liberal education at school, 
he enjoyed at home the instructions of a father, who 
combined a highly improved taste with great intelli- 
gence and piety. Reared amidst scenery calculated 
to inspire the mind with poetic sentiment, and asso- 
ciated from his earliest years with youths who had 
been favoured by the muse, he could hardly fail to 
be operated upon by such influences, and to become 
intelligent, poetic, and pious. This congeniality of 
sentiment and feeling, which characterized Bruce and 
Arnot, led them to cherish each other with even more 
than fraternal fondness, and, accordingly, rendered 
them inseparable companions. This friendship, so pure 
and warm, was suddenly and prematurely broken up 
by the death of Arnot, whilst yet a boy at school, 
This breach gave the first of many shocks to Bruce's 
feelings, which, during his brief career on earth, he re- 
ceived, and which threw over his natural cheerfulness 
a tinge of sadness. Visiting the spot, some four years 
after, where this most intimate companion of his boy- 
hood is interred, he wrote a monody to his memory, 
and inclosed it in the following letter to Arnot's father : 
— "Gairney Bridge, May 29. 1765. Walking lately 
by the church-yard of your town, which inspires a 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 25 

kind of veneration for our ancestors, I was struck with 
these beautiful lines of Mr Gray, in his c Elegy written 
in a country church-yard/ 

6 Perhaps, in this neglected spot is laid, 
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire,' 

and immediately I called to mind your son, whose 
memory will be ever dear unto me ; and, with respect 
to that place, put the supposition out of doubt. I wrote 
the most part of this poem the same day, which I 
should be very sorry if you look upon as a piece of 
flattery : I know you are above flattery, and if I know 
my own mind, I am so too. It is the language of the 
heart ; I think a lie in verse and prose the same. The 
versification is irregular, in imitation of Milton's Lyci- 
das." The manner in which Bruce speaks of his 
friend, a boy of fifteen, will perhaps appear to our 
readers like flattery, when they find him writing thus 
of him :— 

" Oft by the side of Leven's crystal lake, 
Trembling beneath the closing lids of light, 
With slow, short-measured steps, we took our walk ; 
Then he would talk 
Of argument far far above his years ; 
Then he would reason high, 
Till from the east, the silver queen of night, 
Her journey up heaven's steep began to make, 
And silence reigned attentive in the sky." 

But it is considered by all who knew Arnot, that 
Bruce has not overrated him, for he was a youth of 



26 LIFE OF 

great attainments, considering his years, and gave pro- 
mise of pre-eminence in whatever profession he might 
have chosen. It is believed that our poet's early com- 
panionship with this youth was useful to him ever af- 
terwards, by stimulating him to the greatest efforts of 
which he was capable, from seeing in his friend what 
effort could accomplish. 

16. But his early friendship with this youth was 
productive of another kind of benefit to Bruce. The 
farm of Portmoak, the property and residence of Ar- 
not's father, is situated on the very margin of Lochle- 
ven, which forms part of its boundaries, and is fully 
two miles from rvinnesswood, where the parish school 
then was. Thither our poet would often accompany 
his companion in the summer evenings, and as the 
road by which he had to return lay through an 
extensive morass, not easily traversed at mid-day, 
much less at twilight, he was often induced to remain 
with him over the night. In this way, the father of 
his friend was afforded abundant opportunities of dis- 
covering his talents and dispositions, Few parents 
can perceive the excellence which gains approbation, 
in the competitors with their children for praise, and 
most of them are disposed to deny that it exists. But 
Mr Arnot was not only sufficiently just to allow that 
Michael Bruce possessed both intellectual and moral 
excellence, but he was sufficiently generous to commend 
and reward it. The feeling of a less liberal-minded 
man would have been, that it was most presumptuous 
in this boy to aim at any higher profession than that 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 27 

followed by his father, and equally presumptuous in 
the father to think of putting his child upon an equa- 
lity with those above him. But the proprietor of 
Portmoak was not only willing that talent should rise 
to equality with wealth, its just position, but he 
was disposed to assist in its elevation. With this de- 
sire, he encouraged Bruce to frequent his house, till 
he might be said to be a member of the family. In 
this way, he relieved his parents, to a great extent, of 
the burden of his support, which was still farther 
lightened by Mr White, proprietor of Pittendreich, a 
farm further to the west, who was a distant relative 
of Bruce's, with whom he also frequently resided. But 
Arnot was a patron much more to his mind than his 
own relation, and, accordingly, he made him his sole 
confidant and adviser ; and, from all that we can learn, 
Arnot was one of few persons from whom a noble mind 
would willingly accept an obligation. Bruce has him- 
self thus portrayed the character of his friend : — 

" Learned, but not fraught 
With self-importance, as the starched fool 
Who challenges respect by solemn face — 
By studious accent, and high sounding phrase, 
Enamoured of the shade, but not morose — 
Politeness raised in courts, by frigid rules, 
With him spontaneous grows. Not books alone, 
But man, his study, and the better part 
To tread the ways of virtue, and to act 
The various scenes of life with God's applause. 
Deep in the bottom of the flowery vale 
With blooming sallows, and the twine 



28 LIFE OF 

Of verdant alders fenced, his dwelling stands 
Complete in rural elegance. The door, 
By which the poor, or pilgrim never passed, 
Still open, speaks the master's bounteous heart." 

Mr Arnot's library still remains in possession of his 
grandson, the present proprietor of the farm, and af- 
fords sufficient proof of his love of learning, and taste 
in literature. To this library Bruce had at all times 
the freest access. Its owner directed his attention to 
such books as would afford him information upon the 
topics which had been introduced in conversation, and 
pointed out to him such passages as he thought good 
models of composition. He not only heard him re- 
hearse his Latin lessons when he was at his house, but 
continued to correspond with him in that language, 
with the view of promoting his improvement. He 
suggested to him subjects for his muse, and proposed 
emendations on what he had written. With the so- 
licitude of a father he laboured to cultivate his under- 
standing, improve his taste, and fortify his heart. Af- 
ter the death of his son, he seems to have regarded him 
as his own child, and his letters ever after were more 
those of a parent than of a patron. 

17. By the time our poet had entered his fifteenth year, 
the class to which he belonged at school was broken 
up ; Arnot had entered upon that state in which the 
student no longer "sees as through a glass darkly ;" 
Dun had gone to college, and the other pupils had com- 
menced the active employment of life. The question 
was therefore pressed upon Bruce — What course he 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 29 

should follow? He was without funds., though not 
wholly without friends, but he did not know how far 
these were to be depended upon ; besides, he seems to 
have had a strong dislike to be indebted to others for 
his support, if there was a possibility of providing it 
himself. His first intention was, to offer himself as a 
candidate for a bursary in St Andrew's College, and, 
if mere scholarship would have secured it, he would 
have been certain of success ; but a youth of his ac- 
quaintance had been refused admission, after examina- 
tion, and Bruce, suspecting that his connection with 
the Secession church had operated against him, resolv- 
ed, rather than hazard rejection, not to make the ap- 
plication. 

18. Whilst thus waiting for some event in provi- 
dence to indicate the course he should adopt, he em- 
ployed himself in transcribing large portions of Milton 
and Thomson's poetry ; a task which presupposes a 
matured judgment and polished taste, as a previous 
condition ; for these are authors which are seldom un- 
derstood, much less relished, in very early life. The 
familiarity which he thus acquired with the style and 
sentiments of these master geniuses, tended to improve 
his diction, but also in some measure to hinder his ori- 
ginality of thought. His memory was at once ready 
and retentive, and the phraseology with which he had 
so thoroughly embued it, was frequently recurring to 
his mind, and forcing itself into his compositions. Co- 
incidences of thought and expression are thus occasion- 
ally to be met with in his works, which a mind con- 



SO LIFE 0? 

versant with " Paradise Lost" and u The Seasons" 
will readily trace to their source. Holding, with the 
great biographer of the English poets, that iC what is 
borrowed is not to be enjoyed as ourown, and that it is 
the business of critical justice to give every bird of the 
muse his proper feather/' we have in this edition 
marked all the coincidences which we have been able 
to detect, and, considering the age and circumstances 
of the writer, they will be found fewer than might 
have been expected. His images are always beauti- 
ful if they are not all his own. His thoughts are na- 
tural and consecutive ; and if his phrases be some- 
times those which have been framed by others, they 
are generally equalled by those which have been fram- 
ed by himself. Whilst it is allowed that he imitated 
the style, and even adopted the sentiments, of the 
poets that preceded him, yet no one who reads his pro- 
ductions, and is capable of forming a proper estimate 
of them, will deny that he is a poet from inspiration. 
19. We have not been able to learn with accuracy 
when Bruce first commenced writing original verses. 
In his poem of " Lochleven," when referring to his re- 
sidence at Gairney Bridge, he says — 

" First on thy banks the Doric reed I tuned." 

But he cannot mean that it was when domiciled there 
that he first wrote poetry ; for it is well known that 
his f<r Last Day," and several other pieces, were writ- 
ten previous to that period. We presume that by if the 
Doric reed" he means love verses, in allusion to the 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 31 

fact that the only two odes of Sappho which have come 
down to us from antiquity, are of that character, and 
written in the Doric dialect of the Greek language. 
Mr Dun had, in consequence of some poetical exer- 
cises which Bruce performed at school, at a very early 
period, discovered in him indications of " the faculty 
divine/' and it was partly by his power of versifica- 
tion that he first attracted the attention of the proprie- 
tor of Portmoak. It is probable that he could not say 
with Pope that he Cf lisped in numbers," but it is cer- 
tain he could affirm with a still greater bard, that "he 
was early smit with the love of song/' He had a well 
tuned ear, and was delighted with music. He was 
impatient to possess himself of every ballad he heard 
sung, and while the other children of the village were 
seeking after the choicest sweetmeats on which to 
spend their halfpence, Michael was in search of ic Chevy 
Chase" or " The Flowers of the Forest ;" and when 
he had familiarized his mind with the music and the 
sentiments of these ballads, he would endeavour to 
supply his lack of novelty with verses of his own. It 
is pretty obvious, we think, that "Sir James the Ross" 
was not his first attempt at the historical ballad, any 
more than that his u Pastoral" was his first essay in 
song. The well-sustained narrative of the one, and 
the smooth numbers of the other, seem to indicate a 
mind somewhat practised in both. In short— 

" Song was his first and favourite pursuit, 
The wild harp rang to his adventurous hand, 
And languished to his breath the plaintive flute. 



32 LIFE OF 

His infant muse though artless was not mute— 
Of elegance as yet he took no care, 
For this of time and culture is the fruit, 
And Edwin gained at last this fruit so rare." 

20. After he had left school, and was yet uncertain 
to what course he should betake himself, it was inti- 
mated to his father that a relative had died, bequeath- 
ing him 200 merks Scots,* when it was determined 
that Michael should forthwith proceed to Edinburgh 
and enrol himself a student at the University. Mr 
Arnot, to whom this resolution was speedily communi- 
cated, declared his readiness to render him assistance, 
by sending him occasionally a supply of provisions. So 
with the legacy in possession, and the provisions in 
promise, he set out for the metropolis, f He had been 
accustomed at home to the humblest fare, and there- 
fore would not be much concerned that he was un- 
able to command luxuries abroad. But there is some 
reason to suspect that, in consequence of his peculiar 
delicacy in stating his wants, and from the necessity 
of eking out his little stock of means, he had often to 
dispense with necessary diet. Some of his fellow stu- 



^L.ll:2:2|. 

+ Several of his biographers affirm, that after leaving the 
school in his native village, he attended for some time at the 
parish school of Kinross. This statement is incorrect, and is 
likely to have heen made in consequence of Bruce having at- 
tended the theological class in that place. He went directly 
from Mr Pun's school to the University* 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 33 

clents who suspected his very straitened circumstances, 
were willing to share their meals with him, but he 
could not brook the thought of being fed out of pity, 
and whenever the invitation seemed to him to pro- 
ceed from that feeling, he uniformly declined it. He 
is even supposed to have excused himself, when he 
must have been convinced that the invitation was 
prompted by pure respect, because his finances would 
not permit him to return the compliment. 

21. Having been apprized, shortly after his remov- 
al to Edinburgh, that his brother James had become 
| a weaver, he addressed to him the following verses, 
I which we insert more with a view to shew his pious 
turn of mind #t this early age, than his pre-eminent 
talent : for it cannot be said that they contain much 
poetry, and perhaps the subject, as he proposed to 
treat it, does not admit of it. He was then in his 
sixteenth vear. 

WEAVING SPIRITUALIZED. * 

A web I hear thou hast begun, 

And know'st not when it may be done — 

So death uncertain see ye fear — 

For ever distant, ever near. 



* This subject appears to have been suggested to Bruce by 
Ralph Erskine's " Smoking Spiritualized." The piece is cir- 
culated amongst the villagers of Kinnesswood, in manuscript, 
with whom it is popular ; and from a copy belonging to one of 
them the above is transcribed with a few verbal alterations. 



34 LIFE OF 

See'st thou the shuttle quickly pass — 
Think mortal life is as the grass, — 
An empty cloud — a morning dream — 
A bubble rising on the stream. 

The knife still ready to cut off 
Excrescent knots that mar the stuff, 
To stern affliction's rod compare — 
'Tis for thy good, so learn to bear. 

Too full a quill oft checks the speed 
Of shuttle flying by the reed — 
So riches oft keep back the soul, 
That else would hasten to its goal. 

Thine eye the web runs keenly o'er 
For things amiss, unseen before, — 
Thus scan thy life — mend what's amiss — - 
Next day correct the faults of this. 

For when the web is at an end, 
? Tis then too late a fault to mend — 
Let thought of this awaken dread, — 
Repentence dwells not with the dead. 

22. Bruce' s companions at college were Mr George 
Henderson, of whom the reader will find some account 
in the Notes to " Lochleven ;" Mr David Greig, after- 
wards minister in Lochgelly, and for many years clerk 
to the Associate or Burgher Synod ; Mr George Law- 
son, afterwards minister in Selkirk, and Professor of 
Theology to the religious body just named ; with 
two others, of whom, in consequence of the prominence 
which the writer of this narrative must give to the 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 35 

name of the one, and the prominence which Bruce 
himself has given to the name of the other, it is neces- 
sary to furnish a more detailed account. The gentle- 
man to whom the present writer refers is Mr John 
Logan, son of a farmer in East Lothian, who, reared 
under the ministry of the Rev. John Brown of Had- 
dington, then Theological Professor to the Burgher Sy- 
nod, purposed, when he had resolved upon the ministry 
as his profession, to enrol himself a student of his pas- 
tor's class ; but becoming acquainted with Patrick Lord 
Elibank, residing at that time upon his estate of Ba- 
lincrief, near Aberlady, and also with Dr John Mair, 
the parochial clergyman of Athelstaneford, who shew- 
ed him particular attention, he began to waver in his 
purpose of connecting himself with the Secession church, 
and to manifest leanings towards the Establishment. 
These leanings were confirmed, when, at the recom- 
mendation of Dr Blair, who took an interest in him, in 
consequence of having distinguished himself in his rhe- 
toric class, he was engaged as tutor by Sir John Sin- 
clair. When Logan first became connected with this 
coterie of students, he made great professions of piety, 
and was regarded by his companions to be what he 
seemed. But after his introduction to the persons we 
have just named, he began to be less careful of his de- 
portment, and by the time he became a student of di- 
vinity, most of them found it necessary to treat him 
with some reserve.* His change of manner and con- 

* I have often heard my father refer to Bruce. Indeed 
his early days and youthful associates were subjects in which 



36 LIFE OF 

duct became so marked, that Dryburgh, of whom we 
shall make more particular mention presently,, took 
the liberty of stating, in a letter which he addressed 
to him, that he was shewing symptoms of backsliding. 
A copy of Logan's reply to this epistle is now before 
the writer, in which, referring to his correspondent's 
insinuation,, he says, c ' You think I am not so religious 
as I was last winter, because I did not go to Kirkaldy 
under command ; but, in my opinion, there is no more 
religion in hearing sermons, than there is iniquity in 
hearing oaths ; and to convince you to the contrary, 
I travelled no less than twelve miles to hear Mr Shirra, 
your own parson ; prithee, tell him to speak no more 
Latin when he crosses the Firth of Forth, because the 
people there do'nt understand him, and oblige yours, 
&c/'* Having passed through a theological course 
of study at the University, he was licensed as a 
preacher, in connection with the Established Church, 
by the Presbytery of Haddington. His popularity as a 

he took great delight. He cherished the memory of Bruce 
with the deepest veneration and ardent affection, on account 
of his fervent piety, amiable dispositions, and true genius. 
Logan was also one of his College companions ; but so far 
from encouraging an intimacy with him, he rather kept aloof 
from him. Though a man of true genius, his fellow-students 
did not look upon him as an exemplary or religious charac- 
ter. Letter from the daughter of the late Professor Laicson 

to the Editor. 

* For the copy of the letter from which the above passage 
is extracted, and two others, the one from Dryburgh to Bruce, 
the other from Bruce to Dryburgh, the editor is indebted to 
his friend Mr William Kirk, Fleet Street, London, who ob- 
tained them from Dryburgh 's relations. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 37 

preacher, gained to him fifteen months after licence, 
a presentation to the second charge of South Leith, 
from the Incorporated Trades of that town ; but, in 
consequence of the determined opposition of some of 
those who supposed they had a right to control the 
election, it was other fifteen months before he could 
be ordained, and not till both the Ecclesiastical and 
Civil Courts had decided upon the validity of his claims. 
Instead of conciliating his opponents, by an assiduous 
attention to the duties of his office, he gave himself 
up almost wholly to literary studies. A few years 
after his settlement, he delivered a course of lectures, 
in St Mary's Chapel, Edinburgh, on the philosophy of 
history, at first with little success, but afterwards 
both to the increase of his fame and emoluments. 
Whilst thus engaged, the chair of Universal History, 
in the College, became vacant, and he offered himself 
as a candidate for the professorship ; but the nomina- 
tion being invested, by act of Parliament, in the Fa- 
culty of Advocates, from whose leet of two persons 
(generally, of course, members of that Body) the Town- 
Council are bound to make choice, they elected Mr 
Fraser Tytler, afterwards Lord Woodhouselee. This 
disappointment preyed upon Logan's spirits, more espe- 
cially, when he found the fame of the new professor com- 
pelling him to discontinue his lectures. Determined, if 
possible, to raise his popularity in another department of 
literature, since it had failed in this, he offered, to the 
manager of Covent Garden Theatre, a tragedy, entitled 
Runnamede. It was however interdicted by the Lord 
Chamberlain, upon suspicion of having a seditious 



88 LIFE OF 

tendency. He printed it, with a view perhaps to shew 
that the suspicion was groundless ; and Campbell, in 
his u Specimens of British Poets/' affirms, that the 
reader will look in vain either for politics or poetry in 
the play. It was afterwards brought out on the Edin- 
burgh stage, but the public did not encourage its fre- 
quent performance. His congregation were highly of- 
fended with him for occupying his time in furnishing 
amusement to the public. This offence was aggra- 
vated, by his indulging in habits of intemperance, 
At length it became necessary, in order to pre- 
vent deposition, that he should resign his charge, 
which he did after retaining it twelve years, and re- 
tired to London, where he was supported, partly by 
the annuity which he had secured from his congrega- 
tion, and partly by the productions of his pen in the 
form of contributions to the Reviews. He died in the 
metropolis in 1788, about forty years of age. It is 
said that his latter end was worthy of the professions 
of his earlier years ; that when he could no longer hold 
a book, he would get his visitors to read the Scriptures 
to him. We hope his repentance was genuine, not- 
withstanding that truth will compel us to make some 
statements in the sequel, injurious to his memory. 

23. The companion of all others at College, to whom 
Bruce was most attached, was Mr William Dryburgh^ 
from Dysart. Like Brace, he was a youth of extra- 
ordinary piety, * and alas ! like him, also a youth of 



* Letter from the Rev. W. Adair Pettigrew 9 Dysart, to the? 
editor. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 39 

consumptive habit. Both of them had a presentiment 
that they were to drop into a premature grave, and 
the probable brevity of their mortal existence and their 
delightful hopes of a glorious immortality, were the 
frequent subjects of their conversation and correspon- 
dence. As pilgrims, soon to make their exit from this 
world, and as ee heirs together of the grace of life/' they 
were drawn towards each other by sympathies and re- 
gards such as none but pious minds can feel. Their 
presentiment was confirmed by the events : Dryburgh 
died in his eighteenth year, and Bruce followed him 
to the grave in less than a year after. How keenly 
our poet felt the death of his friend, is evinced by a 
letter which he addressed to Pearson upon receiving 
intelligence of the event. " I have not many friends," 
says he, <c but I love them well. Death has been 
among the few I have ; poor Dryburgh ! but he is 
happy. I expected to have been his companion through 
life, and that we should have stept into the grave to- 
gether ; but heaven has seen meet to dispose of him 
otherwise. What think you of this world ? I think 
it very little worth. You and I have not a great deal 
to make us fond of it ; and yet, I would not change 
my condition with any unfeeling fool in the universe, 
if I were to have his dull hard heart into the bargain. 
Farewell, my rival in immortal hope ! my companion, 
I trust, for eternity ! Though far distant, I take thee 
to my heart ; souls suffer no separation from the ob- 
struction of matter, or distance of place. Oceans may 
roll between us, and climates interpose in vain, — the 



40 LIFE OF 

whole material creation is no bar to the winged mind. 
Farewell ! through boundless ages, fare thee w r ell ! 
May'st thou shine when the sun is darkened ! May'st 
thou live and triumph when time expires. It is at least 
possible we may meet no more in this foreign land, 
this gloomy apartment in the universe of God. But 
there is a better world in which we may meet to part 
no more. Adieu/' But Bruce loved Dryburgh too 
well to be content with merely telling Pearson how 
keenly he felt his loss. Genuine grief, like genuine 
love, is poetical, for the one is the natural offspring of 
the other ; and prose is too cold and sluggish to be the 
vehicle of either passion when roused. In grief, as in 
love, the most dull and stupid are sometimes poetical 
without being aware of it. But Bruce was a poet by 
nature, and, therefore, a poet upon all occasions. Ex- 
pecting his verse to live, after he himself was dead 
and his prose forgotten, he resolved, that if his memo- 
ry should survive, Dry burgh's should survive along 
with it, and that the world should know how much 
he loved his friend, and how much his friend was 
worthy of his love. 

Alas ! we fondly thought that heaven designed 
His bright example mankind to improve, 

All they should be was pictured in his mind — 
His thoughts were virtue, and his heart was love. 

Calm as the summer's sun's unruffled face 

He looked unmoved on life's precarious game. 

And smiled at mortals toiling in the chase 
Of empty phantoms,— opulence, and fame. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 



41 



Steady he followed virtue's onward path, 

Inflexible to error's devious way*; 
And firm at last in hope and fixed faith 

Through death's dark vale he trod without dismay, 

Whence, then, these sighs ? and whence this falling tear, 

To sad remembrance of his merit just ? 
Still must I mourn ! for he to me was dear, 

And still is dear, though buried in the dust. 

24, The young men to whom we have just referred, 
met, along with some other students, as a literary so- 
ciety, once a- week, during the session of College. The 
laws of their association required each member to read 
an essay, in turn, to the meeting. Bruce preferred 
writing verse to prose, and instead, therefore, of dis- 
cussing some metaphysical point, or illustrating some 
maxim in morals, he read a poem on " The Last Day." 
The poem was so much admired by some members of 
the Society, that they asked his leave to take copies 
of it. Bruce is considered by some critics as not having 
been successful in this piece; but to expect that he 
should, is to expect an impossibility according to Dr 
Johnson, who remarks, in his Life of Philips, that t( he 
began to meditate a poem on the Last Day, a subject 
on which no mind can hope to equal expectation." In 
the choice of this subject Bruce fell into an error com- 
mon to young men, that of selecting a theme which 
admits of display without costing the trouble of thought 
or research. The Scriptures,, the only source whence 
information can be obtained respecting the closing scene 
of this world's drama, gives little encouragement by 



42 LIFE OF 

their example to dilate upon the theme ; and it is ma- 
nifestly a matter of little moment what will be the 
grandeur of Nature's final catastrophe, since the parties 
interested in it will be too much occupied with other 
considerations, to attend to its splendours. But it 
would be unfair to judge of Bruce's success in this at- 
tempt, from the specimen which we are able to afford, 
even supposing that the subject were one, which, with 
propriety, might be u married to immortal verse." 
When first written, it was designed only to serve a 
trivial purpose, and therefore, great pains were not 
likely to be bestowed upon it. It is known that he 
afterwards enlarged and improved it, but the altered 
version was suppressed by him to whom it was en- 
trusted for publication. The poem was first printed 
by Dr Anderson, in his edition of the British Poets, 
from a copy furnished by Mr Birrel, who, in the letter 
with which he accompanied it, gave this account of it : 
— ""I have sent you the 'Last Day/ by Mr Bruce, 
transcribed from a copy which I long since took from 
the original, now in Dr Baird's possession. My copy 
was compared by Mr Harvey, with another belonging 
to the Rev. David Greig of Lochgelly, one of Bruce's 
College companions. He corrected mine in several 
places, and particularly inserted in the body of the 
poem about forty lines which I had written down as 
a fragment, not being sure if it really belonged to the 
Last Day, in consequence of the deranged state of the 
manuscripts." 

25. Bruce, being now known to his fellow- students 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 43 

as a poet, was solicited by several of them to furnish 
them with verses in commendation of their friends, or 
censure of their rivals. With one exception, he re- 
fused to comply, and when the occasion is stated, we 
do not think that exception will be deemed discredi- 
table to him. A conceited youth belonging to the li- 
terary society, to which we have referred, was in the 
habit of boasting that he could write a style superior 
to Addison, or any popular author of the day. When 
his turn came to read an essay, there was a full mus- 
ter of the members to hear the composition which was 
to outshine, in the polish of its diction, that of every 
author in the English language. It was a perfect 
piece of rodomontade, exciting the risibility, instead 
of the admiration, of his hearers. It was suggested to 
Bruce, that he might benefit this young man, by in- 
flicting upon him a little gentle satire, which he at- 
tempted by producing the ci Fable of the Eagle, Crow, 
and Shepherd/' in which, as the moral of the tale, he 
tendered this piece of wholesome advice to the would- 
be-understood great man : — 

" My son, said he, warned by this wretch, 
Attempt no deed above your reach ; — 
An Eagle not an hour ago — 
He's now content to be a Crow." 

26. It was a principle laid down by Bruce, to which 
he most religiously adhered, never to give cause of 
personal offence by the effusions of his muse. Inci- 
dents were often occurring which presented him with 
temptations of this kind, especially as his mind was more 



44 LIFE OP 

prone to pursue the sportive than the serious, to dwell 
upon the eccentric rather than the regular. But the 
tenderness that dwelt in his nature would not suffer 
him to inflict a moment's pain upon the most insigni- 
ficant being alive, and he chose rather to sacrifice his 
reputation for talent, than lose the satisfaction arising 
from " a conscience void of offence/' Writing upon 
one occasion to his friend Arnot, he says, u I was about 
to entertain you with a character, not altogether un- 
known to you, of a talker, or story-teller, but I do not 
choose, merely for a little diversion, to incur the re- 
prehension of any person living."* 

27. By dint of saving and borrowing, Alexander 
Bruce was enabled to render his son some assistance 
during his remaining sessions at College ; while Mr 
Arnot continued to send him occasional supplies of his 
dairy and farm produce. But that he was in the most 
straitened circumstances, while prosecuting his studies, 
has been shewn by a letter of his already published 
addressed to his friend and patron. " Edinburgh, 
Nov. 27. 1764. — I daily meet with proofs that money 
is a necessary evil. When in an auction I often say 
to myself, How happy should I be if I had money to 
purchase such a book ! How well should my library 
be furnished, ' nisi obstat res angusta domi* 

' My lot forbids, nor circumscribes alone 
My growing virtues, but my crimes confines.' 



* For the letter above quoted and some others of Bruce to 
Arnot, the editor is indebted to the present proprietor of 
Portmoak, the grandson of the gentleman to whom they were 
addressed. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 4^ 

''Whether any virtues would have accompanied me in 
a more elevated station is uncertain, but that a n amber 
of vices, of which my sphere is incapable, would have 
its attendants, is unquestionable. The Supreme Wis- 
dom has seen this meet, and the Supreme Wisdom 
cannot err/' At the end of each session, he returned 
home much exhausted by his application to study, but 
speedily recruited through the attentions of the pro- 
prietor of Portmoak, with whom, during the recess of 
College, he chiefly resided, although he was seldom in 
perfect health, complaining generally of headachs and 
depression of spirits. These, however, seldom hindered 
his paying court to the muse. Most of his time, du- 
ring the summer months, was occupied either in read- 
ing or writing poetry. His productions during these 
periods must be brought under the reader's notice, at 
a subsequent stage in cur narration, and we shall not 
therefore stay to enumerate them at present. 

28. A short time previous to the period of which 
we are writing, the Amiburgher Synod had opened a 
class in Alloa, wnere their Divinity Hall was then 
kept, for th«? instruction o their students in moral phi- 
losophy, in consequence of the pernicious tenets, as 
they considered them, taught by the several professors 
of that science in the Universities. The synod requir- 
ed the students' attendance upon this class, for two 
sessions of eight months each. Xo fee was demanded 
• — the synod paying the professors salary. This cir- 
cumstance induced Bruce to make application for ad- 
mission to attend it. At the time of his doing so, he 



46 LIFE OF 

was in the habit of accompanying his father to his 
place of worship in Milnathort, the minister of which, 
as already stated, had been ejected by the synod for 
preaching what was considered unsound doctrine. As 
yet, however, he was in communion with no church. 
The synod required that candidates for admission to 
their philosophical class should be either members or 
regular hearers in their body, and Bruce supposed him- 
self belonging to this latter class ; but the presbytery 
to which he applied thought otherwise, and therefore 
decided that his application be not then received, but 
that he be encouraged to renew it at some future pe- 
riod. To this decision they probably came in the ex- 
pectation that, before he renewed his application, he 
would withdraw from the ministry of Mr Mair, and 
connect himself with some of the congregations under 
the inspection of the synod.* This decision was a se- 
vere disappointment to Bruce, as he had calculated 
that he might support himself by teaching a school in 
Alloa or its neighbourhood ; and being exempted from 
the payment of class fees, might regard his chief diffi- 
culties in getting forward to the ministry as now ob- 



* " I recollect having been told of Mr Michael Bruce having 
made application for admission to the philosophical class in 
our church. If it was so, 1 may suppose that his rejection was 
grounded on his not being attested as one in full communion, 
or not a regular hearer in our church. I will say nothing dis- 
respectful of our worthy fathers, but it cannot be denied that 
a liberal spirit had not then descended on our church." — 
Letter from the Rev. Br Pringle, Perth, to the Editor. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 47 

viated. His friend Amot recommended him to study 
moral philosophy in the University, and furnished him 
with some money to prosecute this design, and with 
this view he again returned to Edinburgh. 

29. Having paid a visit to his relations during the 
Christmas holidays, of this, his last session at col- 
lege, a proposal was made to him, by some of the in- 
habitants of Gairney Bridge, a small hamlet about two 
miles south of Kinross, to open a school in that place. 
A very prosperous one had been raised there, some 
time before, by Mr John Brown, afterwards minister 
in Haddington, and Professor of Theology to the As- 
sociate Burgher Synod, but had been allowed to 
go down, after he left it to enter upon the ministry. * 
Respecting this proposal he was kept some time in 
suspense, as appears from a letter Avhich he wrote af- 
ter his return to Edinburgh. "March 27- dies natalis, 
1765. — I am in great concern just now for a school. 
When I was over last, there was a proposal made by 
some people of these parts to keep one at Gairney 
Bridge. What it may turn out I cannot tell/' Ar- 
rangements, however, were finally made, and he en- 
tered upon the situation at the end of the session. 

SO. About the same time that Bruce wrote the 
"above letter to Mr Arnot, he wrote also the following 



* Gairney Bridge is a memorable spot in the history of the 
Secession church, for it was there its founders met, and first 
constituted themselves into a presbytery, apart from the ju- 
risdiction of the Establishment. 



48 LIFE OF 

to another friend : — " Last week 1 made a visit to 
Portmoak, the parish where I was born., and being 
accidentally at the funeral of an aged rustic, I was in- 
vited to partake of the usual entertainment before the 
interment. We were conducted into a large barn, 
and placed almost in a square, 

When lo ! a mortal, bulky, grave, and dull, 
The mighty master of the sevenfold skull, 
Arose like Ajax. In the midst he stands — 
A well filled bicker loads his trembling hands. 
To one he comes, assumes a visage new — 
6 Come ask a blessing John? — 'tis put on you. 5 
6 Bid Mungo say,' says John, with half a face, 
Famed for his length of beard and length of grace. 
Thus have I seen, beneath a hollow rock, 
A shepherd hunt his dogs among his flock — 
6 Run collie, Battie, Venture.' Not one hears, 
Then rising, runs himself, and running swears. 

In short, Sir, as I have not time to poetize, the grace 
is said, the drink goes round, the tobacco pipes are 
lighted, and, from a cloud of smoke, a hoary-headed 
rustic addressed the company thus : — c Weel John 
(i. e. the deceased), noo when he's gone, was a good, 
sensible man, stout, and healthy, and hail ; and had 
the best hand for casting peats of onybody in this kin- 
tra side. A weel, Sirs, we maun a' dee — Here's to 
ye/ I was struck with the speech of this honest man, 
especially with his heroic application of the glass, in 
dispelling the gloomy thoughts of death." * 

* This unseemly procedure which was once common at fu- 
nerals in the country, but now happily falling into disuse, 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 49 

31. Of Bruce's exercises at college we have not been 
able to trace a vestige, except a small book containing 
the greater part of Watt's Logic, rendered into ques- 
tion and answer ; a task which he probably imposed 
upon himself, as a good method for mastering the sci- 
ence. All his tickets and testimonials are now lost, 
and we are not, therefore, able to determine either the 
order in which he pursued his studies, or how he ap- 
proved himself to his several masters. As we do not 
choose to make averments, for the truth of which we 
have no evidence, we avail ourselves of the statements 
of Dr Anderson on this point ; who, being acquainted 
with some of Bruce's contemporaries, was likely fur- 
nished by them with the information which he gives. 
<e He applied himself/' says he, ci to the several bran- 
ches of literature and philosophy, with remarkable as- 
siduity and success. Of the Latin and Greek lan- 
guages he acquired a masterly knowledge, and he made 
eminent progress in metaphysics, mathematics, and 
moral and natural philosophy. But the Belles Lettres 
was his favourite pursuit, and poetrv his darling stu- 
dy." 



seems to have strongly impressed the mind of our poet, for he 
introduces it also into his "Last Day," with implied disap- 
probation — 

" To the dust 
We gave the dead. Then, moralizing, home 
The swains returned, to drown in copious bowls 
The labours of the day, and thoughts of death/* 
D 



50 LIFE OF 

32. Having left college, Bruce immediately com- 
menced his labours as a teacher, at Gaimey Bridge. 
The school was kept in an old cottage which happen- 
ed to be previously untenanted. A few deals laid on 
blocks of wood sufficed for forms, and an old table ser- 
ved as writing-desk. This latter article of furniture 
was so frail, that before the first month transpir- 
ed, in which it had been so used, it was damaged be- 
yond repair. Upon this disaster the poet addressed 
the following letter to Mr Flockhart, proprietor of 
the lands of Annafrech, who took the active manage- 
ment of the school: — 

" Gair^ey Bridge, 
"Sir, June 1765. 

The following will inform you that we are 
in a tabeless condition (if you will excuse the novelty 
of the word), which I desire you to take into considera- 
tion. I was about to say a great many fine things 
on the subject, but I find they are all slipt out of my 
head. To your wife and brother make the compliments 
of 

Yours sincerely, 

Michael Bruce/' 

the fall of the table. 

" Within this school a table once there stood — 
It was not iron — No ! 'twas rotten wood. 
Four generations it on earth had seen — 
A ship's old planks composed the huge machine. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 51 

Perhaps that ship in which Columbus hurled 
Saw other stars rise on another world, — 
Or that which bore, along the dark profound, 
From pole to pole, the valiant Drake around. — 
Tho' miracles were said long since to cease, 
Three weeks — thrice seven long days — it stood in peace ; 
Upon the fourth, a warm debate arose, 
Managed by words and more emphatic blows ; 
• The routed party to the table fled, 
Which seemed to offer a defensive shade. 
Thus, in the town, I've seen, when rains descend, 
When arched porticoes their shades extend, 
Papists and gifted Quakers, Tories, Whigs, 
Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs — 
Men born in India, men in Europe bred, 
Commence acquaintance in a mason's shed. 
Thus they ensconced beneath the table lay, — 
With shouts the victors rush upon the prey, — 
Attacked the rampart where they shelter took. 
With firing battered, and with engines shook, 
It fell. The mighty ruins strew the ground. 
It fell ! The mountains tremble at the sound. 
But to what end (say you) this trifling tale ? 
To tell you man as well as wood is frail. — 
Haste then, * since " life can little more supply, 
Than just to look about us and to die." + 

33. All Bruce's friends knew him to be possessed of 



* Pope's Essay on Man. 

f The editor is indebted for the above letter to Henry 
Flockart, Esq. Annafrech, grandson of the gentleman to 
whom it was addressed. The original is still in his possession. 



52 LIFE OF 

the qualities necessary for teaching, but most of them 
doubted his having those which are essential to the 
proper discipline of a school. Aware of his tendency 
to put the most favourable construction on every ac- 
tion, and knowing the gentleness of his disposition, 
they feared that he would seldom or never discover 
faults ; and that though he did discover, he would 
not punish them. They endeavoured, therefore, to im- 
press upon him that government was part of a mas- 
ters duty, as well as instruction ; for the one depend- 
ed in a great measure upon the other; and that it was 
not enough that the well-deserving be rewarded, but 
that the ill-deserving be punished. Mr Dryburgh, 
upon this occasion, wrote him as follows : — " Now 
that you have taken up a school, I beg to remind you 
that you are a pedagogue — neither be too gentle nor 
too severe. The one treatment is as bad as the other, 
but if there be any difference, I think indulgence the 
worse of the two. But, on the other hand, there are 
many who, professing to whip blockheads, ought to 
undergo a similar punishment for being one them- 
selves — to whom the words of Solomon, which Dean 
Swift once chose for his text, may be very well ap- 
plied, c Stripes are for the back of fools/ " These sen- 
timents were still farther enforced in a letter sent him,, 
about the same time, by his more experienced friend 
Arnot. " The energies of the young," says he, " will 
be sure to lie dormant, if they be not roused by those 
to whom their training is intrusted, as most soils are 
barren without cultivation. But there is much need 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 53 

of prudence, for, as some ground requires the stronger 
plough,, another plot may be managed by an easy 
hand. With some force must be used — forbearance 
must be employed towards others. You have the ad- 
vantage of spurring them up by emulation, which sel- 
dom fails, but which, at the same time, does not al- 
ways succeed. By this common impulse I could not be 
affected." These hints, however, were thrown away 
upon Bruce. He loved his pupils with almost a pa- 
ternal regard, and he assumed that each of them loved 
him with an equal affection in return. To the power 
of this principle he trusted to excite diligence, and se- 
cure obedience. When it failed, as he found it some- 
times did, he discoursed to the culprit on the evils of 
indolence, or inculcated upon him the obligations ex- 
pressed or implied in the fifth commandment, as the 
case might require ; and, because these considerations 
weighed with himself, he took it for granted that they 
could not fail to weigh with them. He accordingly 
regarded the rod as an unnecessary appendage, and ab- 
stained from its use. 

34. From the above cause, or some other which we 
have not been able to learn, he did not succeed in 
raising a numerous school. We find from a letter- 
written by Mr George Henderson to Mr Dryburgh, 
when on a visit to Gairney Bridge, that Bruce had 
only twenty-eight scholars, and we have not learned 
that he afterwards increased this number. The letter 
is dated about two months after our poet commenced 
the school. The following fragment of a dialogue 



54 LIFE OF 

written by Bruce, shews that his fees were not only 
the merest trifle, but that also in some cases they were 
most grudgingly paid. " As I was about to enter on 
my labours for the week, an old fellow like a Quaker 
came up and addressed me thus : — Q. Peace be with 
you friend. — M. Be you also safe. — Q. I have brought 
my son Tobias to thee, that thou mayest instruct him 
in the way that he should go. — M. He is welcome. 
— Q. Our brother Jacob telleth me that thou shew- 
est thyself a faithful workman, hearing thy scholars 
oftener in a day than others, because thou hast few. 
— M- I presume I do. — Q. Verily therein thou do- 
est well, thou shalt not lose thy reward, it shall be 
given thee with the faithful in their day. — M. Aye, 
but, friend, I need somewhat in present possession. — 
Q. I understand you, thou wouldst have the prayers 
of the faithful. — M. Aye, and something more sub- 
stantial ; in short, my friend, I must have two shil- 
lings per quarter for teaching your son Tobias. — Q. 
Ah ! friend, I perceive, thou lovest the mammon of 
unrighteousness — let me convince you of your sin. 
— M. Certainly, since thou seem est to be a most right- 
eous man, who deemest the servant worthy of his hire. 
— Q. Hearken unto my voice ; Ezekiel, who was also 
called Holdfast, took but sixpence in the quarter, as 
thou callest it. He was a good man, but he sleepeth 
— the faithful mourned for him. He catechised the chil- 
dred seven times a day. He was one of the righteous , 
yea, he was upright in his day, save in the matter of 
*..*;■;:?•>.*.■■• *—M. I still think that the la-- 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 55 

bour you expect me to bestow upon your son Tobias, 
is worth two shillings a quarter. — Q. Two shillings ! 
verily, friend, thou art an extortioner, yea, thou grind- 
est the face of the poor, thou lovest filthy lucre. Thou 
hast respect unto this present world/' — Ccetera desunt. 
35. But although Bruce' s emoluments at Gairney 
Bridge appear to have been only at the rate of L. 1 1 
a-year ; yet he was in other respects comfortable. It 
had been agreed, by the few more wealthy persons, 
whose children he taught, to board the teacher by 
turns; and he was accordingly received by Mr Grieve, 
farmer in Classlochie, by whom he was treated as 
one of the family, and who would not suffer him to 
remove from his house during the whole time he 
taught in this place. This gentleman had a daughter, 
younger than our poet by about a year, to whom he 
became most warmly attached. Magdalene Grieve, 
afterwards the wife of Mr David Low, proprietor of 
Cleish Mill and Wester Cleish, was a young woman 
of modest appearance and agreeable manners, with a 
large portion of natural good-sense. The poet's fancy, 
however, decked her out with fascinations sufficiently 
numerous and striking; and had she been as he de- 
scribes her, she must not only have been his, but 
every other person's favourite who saw her. 



" In the flower of her youth — in the bloom of eighteen. 
Of Virtue the goddess — of Beauty the queen ; 
One hour in her presence, an era excels 
Amid courts, where ambition with misery dwells. 



SO LIFE OF 

When in beauty she moves, by the brook of the plain, 
You would call her a Venus new sprung from the main, 
When she sings, and the woods with her echoes reply, 
You would think that some angel was warbling on high." 

Besides the ic Pastoral Song/' from which these verses 
are quoted,, our poet has celebrated this lady by the 
name of u Eumelia/' and " Peggy/' in his " Loehle- 
ven," '< Alexis/' and u Lochleven No More/' Were 
we to judge from some expressions which he has em- 
ployed in these pieces, we would conclude that Miss 
Grieve received his addresses with coldness; but it is 
known from her own testimony, often and solemnly 
repeated, that he never declared his passion to herself. 
She was not so ignorant of Cupid's lore, but that she 
could read, in his sayings and doings, a language suffi- 
ciently intelligible to a girl of her age, but there was a re- 
serve about him which she thought incompatible with 
real attachment, and her good sense would not permit 
her to impose a definite meaning upon a look or a word, 
when she was not certain such meaning was intended. 
She continued through life to cherish his memory with 
great fondness, and manifested a particular interest in 
any of his relatives who visited her. Whether if 
Bruce had been spared, and settled in the ministry, 
he would have chosen Magdalene Grieve for his wife, 
is a question which, of course, we cannot answer. We 
know that he continued his attachment to her till 
death, and we believe he was deterred from declaring 
his passion, partly from excessive modesty, and partly 
from a presentiment that it was not the will of hea- 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 57 

ven that he should be either a pastor or a husband, 
He sung thus of her after he had left her father's house, 
and when the fell disease, which laid him prostrate in 
death, was preying upon his vitals. 

* Though from her far distant, to her I'll prove true, 
And still my fond heart keep her image in view. 

! could I obtain her, my griefs were all o'er — - 

1 would mourn the dear maid and Lochleven no more, 

But if fate has decreed that it ne'er shall be so, 
Then grief shall attend me wherever I go, 
'Till from life's stormy sea, I reach death's silent shore, 
Then I'll think upon her and Lochleven no more." 

36. While at Gairney Bridge, with a view, if pos- 
sible, to increase his finances, Bruce entertained the 
project of publishing a volume of his poems, but could 
not command courage to appear in the character of an 
author* His friends, confident of his success, urged 
him in vain to the execution of this design. An ori- 
ginal letter addressed to him by his old schoolfellow 
Dim, who, as already stated, was the son of his paro- 
chial teacher, is now before the writer, in which he 
presses upon him the publication : — u Edinburgh, 
January 25. 1766. I received yours," says he, " and 
am surprised that you say you have nothing to write. 
Have the Muses forsaken you ? Have the tuneful 
sisters withdrawn from the banks of Lochleven ? It 
is impossible you can have offended them ? No, they 
will yet exalt your name as high as ever they did Ad- 
dison's or Pope's. My dear friend, I long to see you 



58 LIFE OP 

appear in public. I hope I shall be freed from sus- 
pense ere long. Do not Jail to do it soon." But, if 
we are to regard the few pieces published after Bruce's 
death as all he ever wrote, it is manifest that, at the 
period to which this letter refers, he could not possibly 
have made up a volume, for the poem of " Lochleven," 
which occupies more than half of the book, small as it 
is, was not written for many months after. But it 
has been reported by persons who had opportunity of 
seeing his manuscripts, that he had composed several 
poems of considerable length besides, and a vast num- 
ber of shorter pieces, before he became a student of 
divinity. This report is indirectly confirmed by two 
letters at present in our possession. The one is from 
Mr George Lawson to Bruce, and dated from Bog- 
house, Feb. 20. 1766, in which he says, " Pray in- 
form me when Mr Swanston proposes to begin his 
course of lectures, and whether you design to attend 
them. I would have been glad to have seen your 
criticism on Moirs pamphlet, or some of your new 
compositions, unless so large that they cannot be con- 
veyed!' The other is a letter from Bruce himself to 
his friend David Pearson, in which he had enclosed 
his beautiful ballad of " Sir James the Ross." i( Let 
me see some of your papers — at least, a little more of 
something new, for really I cannot afford such cart- 
loads of stuff as you have every day from me, if it were 
to my brother, at the rate you return." But more of 
this at a subsequent stage in our narrative. 

37. Bruce had now finished his literarv conrsp «<■ 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 59 

college, and was about to enter upon the study of di- 
vinity ; but, before he could do so, it behoved him to 
be in communion with the church. The question was 
therefore pressed upon him, with what body of Chris- 
tians he should connect himself? The clergyman upon 
whose ministrations he had hitherto attended was un- 
connected with any religious body, and he had no rea- 
son to expect he would succeed him in office. His 
predilections would naturally be in favour of the Anti- 
burgher section of the Secession Church, to which his 
father and Mr Mair had belonged previous to their 
ejection ; but it is probable, that the refusal of his ap- 
plication to be admitted to their philosophical class 
deteraiined him, together with his approbation of the 
peculiarities that distinguished the one branch of the 
Secession from the other, in favour of the Burgher, or 
Associate Synod, He was accordingly admitted to the 
communion of the church by the Rev. John Swanston 
of Kinross, who had been recently appointed Professor 
of Theology by the Synod to which he belonged, and 
into whose class Bruce was afterwards enrolled as a 
student. It mattered not what difference in age, rank, 
or attainments, subsisted between Bruce and the per- 
sons with whom he came in contact. Love him they 
must, if they were capable of affection. Our poet had 
not been long known to his minister and professor till 
he was regarded by him with the feelings of a brother, 
and an intercourse was henceforth maintained between 
them, with a familiarity which most persons would 
deem inexpedient between a minister and a member 



60 LIFE OF 

of his church, and especially between a professor and 
his pupil. 

37. It is somewhat singular, that the first theolo- 
gical exercise, both of Logan * and of Bruce, in their 
respective Halls, should have disappointed the expecta- 
tion of their professors and fellow-students. It was 
anticipated that our poet's homily would be charac- 
terized by floridness of style and amplitude of illustra- 
tion, the common errors of minds of his cast, as illus- 
trated in the cases of Thomson and Pollok, whereas 
there appeared to his critics a deficiency of both. That 
he was in ill health at the time appears from a letter 
addressed to him by his friend Dry burgh, which is now 
before the writer, dated Dysart, 1st April 1766: — " I 
was very sorry to learn from Mr George Henderson, 
who spent a night with us last week, that you thought 
yourself worse since you were here. Nothing, be as- 
sured, would be more agreeable to me than to hear of 
your recovery. I heard, also, that Mr Swanston has 
been advising you to give over your studies altogether. 
I really think it your duty to comply with this advice, 
at least, till you see how you are/' This fact would 
at once account for his discourse being so different from 
what was anticipated, did we not know that the acti- 
vity of his mind was never affected by his disease, 
and that he wrote " The Ode to Spring," one of the 



* " The first theological exercise of Logan at the Hall was 
not such as his other literary exhibitions gave reason to ex- 
pect." — Life of Logan prefixed to his Poems. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 6l 

most beautiful poems in our language, in the last stage 
of consumption. The failure, if failure it was, arose, 
we presume, from Bruce's strict adherence to what, in 
the phraseology of Presbyteries, constitutes a homily ; 
an exercise designed to shew the writer's capability of 
logically dividing and subdividing a text or subject ; 
for the discourse was made up of a series of heads, 
with as many particulars, and as brief illustrations as 
possible. In our day, conformity with this definition 
is not so rigidly demanded ; and the student, there- 
fore, has a better opportunity of displaying the charac- 
ter of his mind. 

38. In the time of Bruce, the number of students 
attending the Divinity Hall of the Burgher Synod was 
few compared with that now attending the Hall of the 
United Secession Church. In Mr Swanston's congre- 
gation there were a great number of persons who were 
proprietors of land, and in otherwise comfortable cir- 
cumstances. These received the students into their 
houses in the character of friends, expecting no remu- 
neration for their attention to them but what arose 
from the satisfaction of being serviceable to deserving 
men and the church. Bruce resided, during his at- 
tendance at the Hall, with Mr Henderson, proprietor 
of Turf hills, whose son had been his companion at col- 
lege, and whom he afterwards celebrated in his poem 
of Lochleven, under the name of " Lelius." 

39. Upon his settlement at Gaimey Bridge, Bruce 
became acquainted with a young man of the name of 
Campbell, in whom he took a lively interest, in con- 



62 



LIFE OF 



sequence of his ardent desire for learning, and the po- 
verty of his circumstances. Campbell was an open, 
sanguine, imaginative youth, and, by these qualities, 
attracted our poet to him, who thought him, at least 
moral, if not pious. His education had been neglected 
in his boyhood ; but by the gratuitous labours of 
Bruce, and his own exertions, he more than remedied 
this neglect. From his master he also acquired a re- 
lish for poetry, and made numerous attempts in verse.* 
Several of his poetical epistles to Mr David Pearson 
are at present in our possession. They are character- 
ized by smoothness of versification, and aptness of al- 
lusion. They are all of an amorous kind. Bruce em- 
ployed this youth to teach for him during his attend- 
ance at the Divinity Hall. When about to return to 



* It is perhaps necessary to inform the reader, in or- 
der to explain how so many persons in such very humble 
situations in life as have been mentioned in this narrative, 
should have been induced to write poetry, and engage 
in other literary exercises, that a society for mutual im- 
provement had been instituted in Kinnesswood, and was 
kept up with spirit for a long series of years. A manu- 
script volume is at present in possession of the writer, con- 
taining an essay contributed by each member once a month, 
under the signatures of " Varro, Damon, Philo, Philenor, 
Lycidas, Theander," &c. &c, and in which such questions 
are discussed as " Who is the person who has best ground for 
joy? "What are the characteristics of man as distinguished 
from the lower orders of creatures ? What is it that makes 
an action good ? How are the motions of the Holy Spirit to 
be distinguished from the suggestions of Satan, " &c. &c. The 
members also often wrote poetical letters to one another, as 
well as other kinds of epistles. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. t>3 

Gairney Bridge at the end of the session, he found a 
scandalous report in circulation against Campbell, 
which turned out to be but too well founded. He felt 
so vexed on this account, that he resolved to abandon 
the school in that place, and endeavour to procure an- 
other elsewhere. One was offered him at Forrest Mill, 
a place about fifteen miles to the south-west of Kin- 
ross, which he immediately accepted.* 

40. When on his way to this place, the horse upon 
which he rode stumbled in fording the Devon, and im- 
mersed him in the stream. He remounted, and rode 
forward to his intended lodgings with his clothes 
drenched. Upon his arrival he had to be put to bed, 
and from that time the symptoms of pulmonary con- 
sumption became every day more confirmed. The cot- 
tage in which he kept his school was most unfavour- 
able to him as diseased. It was low-roofed, damp, 
and close. One of the daughters of the family with 
whom he lodged, whose name was Mill, - 6 with that 
pity that dwells in womankind," took care that the 
school-room was sufficiently warmed every morning 
before he entered it, and that boards were laid where 
his feet rested to keep them from the cold earthen 
floor ; but the destroyer laughed at her assiduities, for 



* Campbell shewed contrition in after life for the criminal 
act of his youth, and regained some measure of respect, al- 
though he was never restored to the intimacy of Bruce. He 
"became clerk to Mr Young, distiller in Hattonhurn, and af- 
terwards removed to a similar situation in Montrose, where 
he died, unmarried. 



64 LIFE OF 

he had already secured his victim. Bruce did not seek 
to conceal his conviction of this mournful fact, either 
from himself or his friends. Writing to Mr David 
Pearson, he says, c< The next letter you receive from 
me, if ever you receive another, will be dated 1767. *** 
I lead a melancholy kind of life in this place. I am 
not fond of company. But it is not good that man be- 
still alone ; and here I have no company but what is 
worse than solitude. If I had not a lively imagina- 
tion, I believe I should fall into a state of stupidity 
and delirium. I have some evening scholars, the at- 
tending on whom, though few, so fatigues me, that the 
rest of the night I am quite dull and low-spirited. 
Yet I have some lucid intervals, in the time of which 
I can study pretty well." 

41. What expectations he had formed respecting 
the situation at Forrest Mill, we are unable to deter- 
mine ; but whatever they were, it appears from the 
following letter addressed to Mr Arnot, that they were 
disappointed : — u It is an observation of some of our 
philosophers, that it is better for man to be ignorant 
of, than acquainted with, the future incidents of his 
life ; for, if he were apprized of the evils which await- 
ed him, he would be as miserable, if not more so, in 
fearing as in suffering. When we are in expectation 
of any thing, we paint it to ourselves as most agree- 
able ; nor can we be convinced, but by experience, that 
every thing here is of a mixed nature. When this 
long-expected convenience arrives, we can scarce be- 
lieve it is the thing we hoped for, and, in truth, soon 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 65 

find it very different. Many a disappointment .of this 

kind have I met with. What I enjoyed of any thing 
was always in the hope, not in the possession of it. I 
■expected to be happy here, but I am not ; and my 
sanguine hope is the reason of my disappointment. 
The easiest part of my life is past, and I was never 
happy, I sometimes compare my condition with that 
of others, and imagine if I was in theirs it would be 
well. But is not every body thus ? Perhaps he whom 
I envy thinks he would be glad to change with me, 
and yet neither would be better for the change. Since 
it is so, let us, my friend, moderate our hopes and 
fears, resign ourselves to the will of Him who doeth 
all things well, and who hath assured us that he careth 
for us. 

" Si res sola potest facere et servare beaturn, 
Hoc primus repetas opus, hoc postremus omitas." 

Things are not very well in this world, but they are 
pretty well. They might have been worse ; and, as 
they are, may please us who have but a few short days 
to use them. This scene of affairs, though a very per- 
plexed, is a very short one, and in a little while all 
will be cleared up. Let us endeavour to please God, 
our fellow-creatures, and ourselves. In such a course 
of life we shall be as happy as we can expect in such a 
world as this. Thus, you who cultivate your farm 
with your own hands, and I who teach a dozen 
blockheads for bread, may be happier than he who, 

E 



66 LIFE OF 

having more than he can use, tortures his brain to 
invent new methods of killing himself with the super- 
fluity." * 

42. But besides poverty, disease, and the want of 
intercourse with congenial spirits, each of which was 
sufficient to have fretted most minds, there was a cir- 
cumstance connected with this new situation by which 
he was peculiarly affected, and that was the total want 
of scenery on which his eye could rest with pleasure. 
(i The sweet winding Devon/' since rendered classical 
by the genius of the Ayrshire bard, ran, indeed, at no 
great distance ; and " the lofty Ochil," as Bruce him- 
self has styled the mountainous range, brought up the 
background of the view northwards : but a more 
dreary, sterile tract of country than that which lay in 
the immediate vicinity of his school, is not easily to be 
found. The place, even yet, is better known by the 
designation of " The Thieves," than by that of the 
c * Forrest Mill/' as having afforded, by its solitariness 
and wildness, a resort and hiding-place for the vagrant 
tribe, who choose rather to appropriate the fruits of 
other men's labours than to earn a supply for them- 



* The latter part of this letter, as well as the whole of the 
preceding one, and another that is still to follow, have already 
appeared in Dr Anderson's Life of Bruce. As the originals 
are before us, we insert the part omitted by Dr A. in this 
epistle, which consists of the sentences preceding that begin- 
ning. " What I enjoyed of any thing," &c, and then from 
the acknowledgment, " I was never happy," down to "Things 
are not very well," &c. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 67 

selves. To this combination of unfavourable circum- 
stances the poet himself most touchingly refers. 

" Thus sung the youth, amid unfertile wilds 
And nameless deserts, unpoetic ground, 
Far from his friends he strayed, recording thus 
The dear remembrance of his native fields 
To cheer the tedious night, while slow disease 
Preyed on his pining vitals, and the blasts 
Of dark December shook his humble cot." 

43. But the beauty which he could not find in the 
scenery around Forrest Mill, he found in his recol- 
lections of the landscape which had delighted his 
vision in boyhood, and thus he enlivened his feel- 
ings by recording his reminiscences of Lochleven, 
<( with all its wilds, and fertile fields, and glitter- 
ing streams/' Of this poem he gives the following 
account in a letter to Mr Arnot : — " I have writ- 
ten a few lines of a descriptive poem, cui titalns est 
Lockleven. You may remember you hinted such a 
thing to me, so I have set about it, and you may ex- 
pect a dedication. I hope it will soon be finished, as 
I every week add two lines, blot out six, and alter 
eight. You shall hear of the plan when I know it 
myself/' 

44. The general excellence of this poem may be 
judged of from the fact, that Campbell in his " Speci- 
mens of the English Poets," Drake in his i{ Literary 
Hours/' Chambers in his " Biographical Dictionary of 
Eminent Scotsmen/' and Forsyth in his " Beauties of 



68 LIFE OP 

Scotland/' have each quoted different portions of it as 
beautiful passages, and in this way have nearly divided 
the whole poem amongst them. It is not our purpose to 
enter into a formal criticism of Bruce' s poetry, either 
in whole or in part. This Dr Anderson has already 
done ; and to what he has advanced little can be added. 
We shall therefore avail ourselves of his remarks in their 
proper place. Meanwhile, we cannot avoid adverting 
to what we consider omissions in this poem ; and, 
after the high testimony to its excellence, implied in 
the fact which we have just stated, we think it can 
afford, without losing by it, that reference be made to 

« them. 

45. We have thought it somewhat singular, that, 
whilst Bruce calls his poem ec Lochleven," the lake, 
properly considered, should come in for so small a share 
of his description. It might surely have been expected 
that a poet would have adverted to the variety of 

.aspects in which Lochleven, in common with other 
lakes, presents itself; as, for example, at break of 
day, when, as a more recent poet has sung of another 
lake, 

" The summer's dawn-reflected hue 
To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ;* 

or, as when presaging a storm, 

" The clouds are met ; 



The lowering scowl of heaven 
An inky hue of lurid blue 
To the deep lake was given;" 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 69 

or, as when the zephyrs play upon its bosom, and 

" Mildly soft the western breeze 
Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees ; 
And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, 
Trembled, but dimpled not for joy." 

To those residing upon its banks, who are so familiar 
with its general appearance as to have their attention 
otherwise seldom called to it, these varieties of aspect 
impart all the interest which they come to feel in the 
scene. We mean not, by these illustrations, to insti- 
tute a comparison between the author of u The Lady 
of the Lake" and the author of " Lochleven," for we 
are well enough aware, that 

" Not alike to every mortal eye 
Is nature's scene unveiled." 

And we know, too, that the poet, no more than the 
painter, i( can imitate motion,, sound, the momentary 
variations of light and shade, and all those accidental 
circumstances which so greatly contribute to give pic- 
turesque effect to a landscape/'* But we do think there 
is a deficiency in the poem of Lochleven in these re- 
spects, and this is the more to be regretted, since the poet 
has shewn himself capable of giving such descriptions 
in a manner in which they have been seldom given. Bu 
we must not forget, that when Bruce wrote this poem 



Descriptive Views of the Northern Lakes. 



70 LIFE OP 

he did not command an actual survey of his subject, — • 
that he wrote from recollection, not inspection, — and 
that he was therefore led to describe it rather in its 
essentia] than its accidental — in its permanent than its 
varying aspects — rather as he had generally, than as 
he had occasionally, seen it. It will be allowed, by 
those who know the Vale of Kinross in all its details, 
that in this poem they not only have a poetical de- 
scription, but an accurate topographical account of 
its localities ; whilst those who do not know it other- 
wise than as a portion of a small county in Scotland, 
must acknowledge that Bruce has succeeded in an 
attempt in which most others have failed, that of 
making the description of local scenery interesting. 

46. Another circumstance which appears to us as a 
still more striking omission than the varying aspects 
of the lake, is, that the poet should have adverted both 
to the past and present state, 

" Of high Loclileven Castle, famous once, 
The abode of heroes of the Bruce's line/' 

without making the most remote allusion to the fact 
that it was the prison of the beautiful, but unfortunate, 
the imprudent, but ill-advised, Mary Queen of Scots. 
This is the more remarkable, seeing that when refer- 
ring to the ruins of a Monastery, upon another island 
in the lake, he adverts to the nameless devotees of 
Popery who sought in it a retreat, 

" The world forgetting, and by the world forgot ." 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 71 

Byron, whose works indicate a greater admiration 
of the beauties of nature than sympathy in human 
suffering, overlooks the loveliness of Geneva's Lake, and 
the grandeur of the Alps which surround it, when his 
attention was called to the Castle of Chillon rising 
from among its waters, and he was told it had been the 
prison-house of some who contended " for the faith 
once delivered to the saints." 

K Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place, 
And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod 
Until his very steps have left a trace 
Worn, as if the cold pavement were a sod, 
By Bonivard ! May none those marks efface, 
For they appeal from tyranny to God." 

But as to Brace's motives for describing Lochleven 
Castle without deigning to take the least notice of its 
once royal prisoner, we will not venture a conjecture. 
It was certainly possible to have stated the fact, and even 
expressed some pity for her sufferings, without insinu- 
ating either censure or commendation of her character 
or conduct. Interesting as the poem of u Lochleven" 
is, it would have been still more so had the imprison- 
ment of Mary in its castle been the subject, and the 
description of its scenery a part of its illustration and 
embellishment, and this plan might have been pursu- 
ed under the same title with even more propriety than 
the one adopted. 

46. The effort of mind which the composition of 
" Lochleven" had called forth seems to have been too 
much for Brace's shattered frame, for he was compelled 



72 LIFE OP 

almost immediately after it was finished to relinquish 
his school. Having intimated this necessity to his em- 
ployers, he took farewell at once of Forrest Mill and 
his hopes of life. But even then he had sufficient 
strength remaining to walk home to Kinnesswood, a 
distance of nearly twenty miles, resting only for a brief 
spaee at Turf hills, the residence of his friend Hender- 
son.* Whilst the cottage of his parents was no doubt 
the place of ail others where he was likely to meet 
with those kind attentions so necessary to a consump- 
tive invalid, yet from its locality it was one of the 
worst for a person labouring under his disease. The 
vapours which rise from the lake keep the atmosphere 
almost constantly moist, whilst in the mornings and 
evenings, especially of spring, the u Eastern Haars," 
as the fogs which come up from the sea are called by 
the inhabitants, come rolling down the hills, and hang 
suspended over Kinnesswood, like a dripping curtain. 
When writing his poem of Lochleven, he thought the 
descent of these vapours an incident worthy of notice 
in the scene. 

" The twilight trembles o'er the misty hills 
Trinkling with dew." 

But as a consumptive patient, exquisitely sensitive 
to the variations of the atmosphere, he now felt them 
to be a serious inconvenience. Here, again, he was 
disappointed of that alleviation of distress which he 

* Letter from John Henderson, Esq. Turfhills, to the Edi- 
tor. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. Jd 

had expected from change of scene and release from 
labour. 

47. It was under this disappointment that he sat 
down and wrote his " Ode to Spring/' which, when 
finished, he addressed to his friend, Mr George Hen- 
derson,* with a view to apprize him that even his 
hopes of temporary relief were gone, and that in a 
shorter space than either of them had anticipated he 
should be at repose in the silent grave. 

u Now spring- returns, but not to me returns 

The vernal joy my better years have known ; 
Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, 
And all the joys of life with health are flown. 

Starting and shivering in the inconstant wind, 
Meagre and pale, the ghost of what I was, 

Beneath some blasted tree I lie reclined, 
And count the silent moments as they pass. 

The winged moments, whose unstaying speed 
No art can stop, or in their course arrest ; 

Whose flight shall shortly count me with the dead, 
And lay me down in peace with those that rest. : ' 

4-8. Having intimated his persuasion of his ap- 
proaching dissolution to his friend Henderson in verse, 
he hastened to do the same to his friend Pearson in 
prose, taking one of the verses of the same ode as his 
starting point. 



* The original MS. of this beautiful poem is still in posses- 
sion of this gentleman's familv. Letter from John Hender- 
son, Esq, to the Editor. 



7^ LIFE OF 

" If morning dreams presage approaching fate, 
And morning dreams, as poets tell, are true, 
Led by pale ghosts, I enter death's dark gate, 
And bid this life and all the world adieu. 

" A few mornings ago as I was taking a walk on an 
eminence which commands a view of the Forth, with 
the vessels sailing along, I sat down, and taking out 
my Latin Bible, opened by accident at a place in the 
book of Job, ix. 23, ' Now my days are passed away 
as the swift ships/ Shutting the book I fell a musing 
on this affecting comparison. Whether the following 
happened to me in a dream or waking reverie, I can- 
not tell ; but I fancied myself on the bank of a river or 
sea, the opposite side of which was hid from view, 
being involved in clouds of mist. On the shore stood 
a multitude, which no man could number, waiting for 
passage. I saw a great many ships taking in passen- 
gers, and several persons going about in the garb of 
pilots, offering their service. Being ignorant and 
curious to know what all these things meant, I applied 
to a grave old man, who stood by, giving instructions 
to the departing passengers. His name, I remember, 
was the Genius of Human Life. ' My son/ said he, 
' you stand on the banks of the stream of Time. All 
these people are bound for Eternity, that ' undiscovered 
country from whence no traveller ever returns/ The 
country is very large, and divided into two parts, the 
one is called the Land of Glory, the other the Kingdom 
of Darkness. The names of these in the garb of pilots 
are Religion, Virtue, Pleasure. They who are so wise 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 75 

as to choose Religion for their guide,, have a safe though 
frequently a rough passage ; they are at last landed in 
the happy climes where sighing and sorrow for ever flee 
away ; they have likewise a secondary director, Virtue, 
but there is a spurious virtue who pretends to govern 
by himself; but the wretches who trust to him, as well 
as those who have Pleasure for their pilot, are either 
shipwrecked, or are cast away on the kingdom of dark- 
ness. But the vessel hi which you must embark ap- 
proaches, you must begone. Remember what depends 
upon your conduct/ No sooner had he left me than 
I found myself surrounded by those pilots I mentioned 
before. Immediately I forgot all that the old man said 
to me, and seduced by the fair promises of Pleasure, 
chose him for my director. We weighed anchor with 
a fair gale. The sky serene, the sea calm. Innumer- 
able little isles lifted their green heads around us, 
covered with trees in full blossom ; dissolved in stupid 
mirth, we were carried on, regardless of the past, of the 
future unmindful. On a sudden the sky was darken- 
ed, the winds roared, the seas raged ; red rose the sand 
from the bottom of the troubled deep. The angel of 
the waters lifted up his voice. At that instant a strong 
ship passed by ; I saw Religion at the helm. e Come 
out from among these/ he cried. I and a few others 
threw ourselves out into his ship. The wretches we 
left were now tost on the swelling deep. The waters 
on every side poured through the riven vessel. They 
cursed the Lord ; when lo ! a fiend rose from the deep, 
and, in a voice like distant thunder, thus spoke — ' I am 



76 LIFE OF 

Abaddon, the first born of death ; ye are my prey, open 
thou abyss to receive them/ As he thus spoke they 
sunk, and the waves closed over their heads. The 
storm was turned into a calm, and we heard a voice 
saying, c Fear not, I am with you. When you pass 
through the waters, they shall not overflow you/ 
Our hearts were filled with joy, I was engaged in dis- 
course with one of my new companions, when one from 
the top of the mast cried out, < Courage, my friends, I 
see the fair haven, the land that is yet afar off/ Look- 
ing up I found it was a certain friend who had mount- 
ed up for the benefit of contemplating the country be- 
fore him. Upon seeing you I was so affected that I 
started and awaked. Farewell, my friend, farewell."* 
49. With a view, as he confessed to his friends, to 
keep his thoughts fixed upon that dread tribunal before 
which he was shortly to stand, he abandoned writ- 

* The germ of the above allegory is contained in the fol- 
lowing fragment in Bruce's handwriting, now in our posses- 
sion, to which we call the reader's special attention, as we 
purpose in the sequel to adduce it as evidence in favour of 
some claims to another piece published by his first Editor as 
his own. 

" The hoar-frost glitters on the ground, the frequent leaf 
falls from the wood, and tosses, to and fro down in the wind. 
The summer is gone with all his flowers ; summer ! the season 
of the Muses, yet not the more cease I to wander where 
the Muses haunt near spring or shadow grove, or sunny hill. 
It was on a calm morning while yet the darkness strove with 
the doubtful twilight, I rose and walked out under the open- 
ing eyelids of the morn. I bent my steps over the hill till I 
came to a place where an echo is given foith by a concave 
Tock, and there began repeating Mark Antony's soliloquy 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 77 

Ing upon other subjects, and confined himself to the 
improvement of his poem on the " Last Day/' to 
which, it is known, he added a number of verses, 
the greater part of which, in its improved state, he 
transferred into his volume of MSS., but he was not 
allowed to finish it. His bodily strength was com- 
pletely exhausted, and he was now almost wholly 
confined to bed. There he occupied himself in commit- 
ting portions of Scripture to memory, which he would 
repeat and comment upon to the friends who visited 
him. 

50. Mr George Lawson being called to preach as a 
candidate for the congregation of Mr Mair at Milna- 
thort, which had joined the Burgher Synod after the 
death of their minister, hastened upon his arrival to 
Kinnesswood to see his friend Bruce. He found him 
in bed, as noticed above, with his countenance pale as 
death, while his eyes shone like lamps in a sepulchre. 
The poet was delighted to see him, and spoke with as 
much ease and freedom as if he had been in the most 
perfect health. Mr Lawson remarked to him that he 
was glad to see him so cheerful. <£ And why/' said 
he, " should not a man be cheerful on the verge of 
heaven," " But/' said Mr L. " you look so emaciated, 
I am afraid you cannot last long." a You remind me," 

over the murdered body of Caesar, till I came to these words, 

' Thou art the ruins of the noblest man 
That ever lived, in the tide of time.'' 

This metaphor had escaped me before.'" 



78 LIFE OF 

he replied, <c of the story of the Irishman, who was 
told that his hovel was about to fall, and I answer 
with him, Let it fall, it is not mine."* 

51. This cheerfulness he maintained during his 
illness till his mother one morning announced to him 
just as he was awakening out of sleep, that Mr 
Swanston was dead. He looked at her with a 
ghastly stare as if stunned by the intelligence. Up- 
on recovering from his surprise, he satisfied himself 
as to the accuracy of the statement, and was never 
again seen to smile. f He lingered on for a month lon- 
ger, manifesting little interest in what was said or done 
by those around him, and on the 5th of July 1767; im- 
perceptibly fell asleep in death, aged twenty-one years 
and three months. His Bible was found upon his pil- 
low, marked down at Jer. xxii. 10. i( Weep ye not for 
the dead, neither bemoan him/' and on the blank leaf 
this verse was written, 

" 'Tis very vain for me to boast 
How small a price my Bible cost, 
The day of judgment will make clear 
'Twas very cheap — or very dear.'' 

He was buried in the churchyard of Portmoak, in the 

* Letter from the daughter of the late Dr Lawson to the 
Editor. 

•f* On Sabbath 7th June 1767, Mr Swanston was assisting at 
the celebration of the Lord's Sapper at Perth, when he was 
seized after divine service in the evening with inflammation 
in the bowels. The distemper was so rapid that he could not 
be conveyed to his own family at Kinross. He died on the 
Friday following at the house of a relation in the city. 



MICHAEL BRUCE, 79 

very centre of the scene which has been consecrated by 
his muse. 

" Hail and farewell, blest youth ! soon hast thou left 
This evil Avorld. Fair was thy thread of life ; 
But quickly by the envious Sisters shorn. 
Thus have I seen a rose with rising morn 
Unfold its glowing bloom, sweet to the smell 
And lovely to the eye ; when a keen wind 
Hath tore its blushing leaves, and laid it low, 
Stripp'd of its sweets — Ah ! so, 
So Daphxis fell ! long ere his prime he fell ! 
Nor left he on these plains his peer behind."* 

52. It has been supposed that an author's character 
may be always learned from his works, but the sup- 
position is not well founded. Were we to judge of 
Bruce's feelings and temper from the prevailing tone 
of his printed compositions, we would conclude that he 
was hypochondriacal ; whereas it is well known that 
he was constitutionally cheerful, so much so, that his 
presence was eagerly desired by his friends as a never- 
failing source of animation. It is true, that, during the 
latter period of his life, he was subject to depression of 
spirits, but this was the effect of disease ; and, seeing he 
was conscious that his mortal existence was to be very 
brief, it is surprising that that depression was not greater 
than it appears to have been. It was chiefly when alone 
that he was sad. Whenever his thoughts were diverted 



* Bruce's Monodv to the memory of Mr Wm, Arnot. 



SO LIFE OF 

from himself, his melancholy vanished. After he was 
relieved from suspense, and speedy dissolution seemed 
inevitable, his wonted sprightliness returned, and he 
conversed with his visitors as if he had been still in the 
heyday of health, and in the enjoyment of the bright- 
est prospects which this life can afford. Had he been 
spared, he must have enjoyed existence, for he was 
largely furnished by nature with t,he elements of hap- 
piness ; but we are persuaded that, to afford him suit- 
able gratification, he would have required more money 
than was likely to have fallen to his share. His fine 
perception of the beautiful, both in nature and in art, 
would have naturally led him to provide himself with 
things which minds less refined would have considered 
trifles ; and to embellish what he possessed in a man- 
ner which, by more ordinary men, would have been 
deemed extravagant. 

53. Throughout Bruce's poetry every discerning 
•reader perceives tenderness of sentiment, beauty of 
thought, and felicity of diction ; and, judging from 
these qualities in his compositions, he is likely to ex- 
pect that the poet himself would be characterized by 
elegance of manner. But this was not the case. Not 
that Michael Bruce was either rude or coarse, but he 
was modest to excess, and he never improved his pro- 
vincial pronunciation, a circumstance which conveyed 
to those not intimately acquainted with him an im- 
pression of rusticity. He had, besides, an unbounded 
love of truth ; and, consequently, would indulge in no 
praise or blame which was not fully called for. He 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 81 

loathed affectation, and would not put forth even just 
claims to merit, lest he should be suspected of ad- 
vancing unwarrantable pretensions. To this feeling 
the retention of his provincial dialect is, in all proba- 
bility, to be ascribed, being afraid that his early com- 
panions, whom he continued to cherish with all the 
ardour of first love, might ascribe his correctness of 
speech to a desire of being thought Wiefine gentleman. 

54. The constancy in friendship to which we have 
just adverted was a striking feature in our poet's 
character. He loved his friends with an intensity of 
feeling of which comparatively few are capable. The 
prominent place which he has given in his poems to 
his early companions, shews how sincere was the re- 
gard with which he cherished them. That he suc- 
ceeded in awakening a reciprocal affection in them, if 
not in the same, at least in a more than usual degree, 
is evident from the fact, that all his associates with 
whom we have conversed continue to speak of his 
memory in strains almost rapturous. The vicissitudes 
of threescore years have not been able to obliterate 
him from their recollections, or alter the fondness with 
which they have always been disposed to speak of 
him. They appear to regard it as indicating cold- 
ness of heart, if their auditors do not listen with all 
the earnestness which they themselves feel in describ- 
ing him ; and the sure way to engage them in inte- 
resting conversation is to mention the name of Michael 
Bruce. 

55. But of all our poet's characteristics, his piety 

F 



82 LIFE OF 

was the most distinguishing. Religion was obviously 
with him a matter of experience. His conduct and 
his conversation alike bespoke a regard for its sanctions, 
and a firm trust in its promises. His life and death 
were confirmations of the prophet's statement, u Thou 
wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed 
upon thee/' His contentment under the greatest pri- 
vations has been the admiration of all who are ac- 
quainted with his history ; a contentment springing, 
not from stupid indifference, or from a necessity of 
yielding to what is unavoidable, but from an entire 
acquiescence in the will of God. Whatever befel him 
contrary to his expectations, or was continued in op- 
position to his hopes, he ascribed to the superintending 
agency of the All-wise God, and silenced every mur- 
mur in his breast with this sentiment, " The Supreme 
Wisdom hath seen this meet, and the Supreme Wis- 
dom cannot err." He looked on death with the same 
undisturbed serenity as on the untoward events of life, 
and was as willing to enter "the swellings of Jordan" 
as to remain in the wilderness, when assured that such 
was the will of his Infallible Conductor. 

K I hear the helpless wail, the shriek of wo ; 
I see the muddy wave, the dreary shore, 
The sluggish streams, that slowly creep below, 
Which mortals visit, and return no more. 

" Farewell, ye blooming fields ! ye cheerful plains ! 
Enough for me the churchyard's lonely mound, 
"Where melancholy with still silence reigns, 

And the rank grass waves o 5 er the cheerless ground. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 83 

" There let me sleep forgotten in the clay, 

When death shall shut these weary aching eyes ; 
Rest in the hope of an eternal day, 

Till the long night is gone, and the last morn arise."* 

In short, we consider the character of Michael Bruce 
as one of the loveliest that has adorned humanity, 
and, as such, worthy to be held in everlasting remem- 
brance. 

" Poet and saint to him are justly given, 

The two most sacred names of earth and heaven." 

56. It has been pertinently remarked by Chambers, 
in his Biographical Dictionary of Eminent Scotsmen, 
that " perhaps Bruce's fame as a poet has been injured 
by the sympathy which his premature death excited, 
and by the benevolent purpose which recommended 
the latest edition of his works to public patronage. 
Pity and benevolence are strong emotions ; and the 
mind is commonly content with one strong emotion at 
a time. He who purchased a book that he might pro- 
mote the comfort of the author's mother, procured for 
himself, in the mere payment of the price, a jrieasure 
more substantial than could be derived from the con- 
templation of agreeable ideas ; and he would either be 
satisfied with it and go no farther, or carry it with him 
into the perusal of the book, the beauties of which 
would fail to produce the same effect as if they had 

* Bruce's Ode to Spring. 



84 LIFE OF 

found his mind unoccupied." Another cause which 
has operated injuriously to the fame of our poet is 
the fact, that Logan, who edited the first edition of his 
works, afterwards claimed the authorship of several of 
the poems contained in the volume, and thus left a 
doubt upon the public mind how much of the book is 
to be ascribed to Bruce, and how much to his editor.* 
It is one object of the present publication to clear up 
this matter, and we expect to be able to place it be- 
yond the need of further controversy, and to shew, that 
not only is Bruce entitled to the credit of all the pieces 
which have passed under his name, but also to many 
that Logan published as his own, as well as several 
which he never did publish ; and that, consequently, 
the public are not competent to judge of the full ex- 
tent of Bruce's talents, not being in possession of all 
his works. 

57. It may be affirmed of Michael Bruce, with equal 
truth, what Lord Orford once said of his friend Gray, 
that " he was never a boy." His mind appears to 



* In despite of all these disadvantages, the works of Bruce 
have kept their place amongst the classics, and been widely 
circulated. The present, to our knowledge, is the twelfth 
time they have been reprinted ; and there may be many more 
editions of which we are not aware. " The reader who glances 
but casually into these poems, will be surprised to find how 
many of those familiar phrases, recommended to universal 
use by their beauty of thought and felicitous diction, — which 
every one quotes, while no one knows whence they are 
taken, — we owe to Michael Bruce." — Chambers^ Biographi- 
cal Dictionary of Eminent Scotsmen^ Article M. Bruce. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 85 

have reached maturity at once ; and his sentiments 
and imagery are such, as in after life he would have 
been almost certain to approve. Whether he would 
have accomplished any thing greater than what now 
constitutes his fame had longer years been assigned 
him, it were needless to conjecture. Akenside's (i Plea- 
sures of Imagination, published, as it was, at the age 
of twenty-three, raised expectations that were never 
afterwards very amply satisfied ; " * and such also 
might have been the case with the subsequent efforts 
of Michael Bruce. The well- sustained energy of all 
his pieces, however, would lead us to think otherwise. 
58. Dr Anderson has, upon the whole, formed a 
very correct estimate of the merits of Bruce's several 
accredited poems, and we content ourselves with tran- 
scribing his criticisms, deeming it unnecessarv on our 
part to make a new analysis of their beauties or ble- 
mishes. " As a poet," says he, £c Bruce is character- 
ized by elegance, simplicity, and tenderness, more than 
sublimity, invention, or enthusiasm. He has more 
judgment and feeling than genius or imagination. He 
is an elegant and pleasing, though not a very animated 
or original writer. His compositions are the produc- 
tion of a tender fancy, a cultivated taste, and a bene- 
volent mind ; and are distinguished by an amiable 
delicacy, and simplicity of sentiment, and a graceful 
plainness of expression, free from the affectation of an 
inflated diction, and a profusion of imagery, so com- 

* Johnson's Lives of the Poets. 



8(5 LIFE OF 

mon in juvenile productions. His thoughts are often 
striking, sometimes new, and always just ; and his 
versification, though not exquisitely polished, is com- 
monly easy and harmonious. 

59. " His ' Lochleven' is the longest and most ela- 
borate of his poetical compositions. It is a descriptive 
poem, written in blank verse, the structure of which 
he seems to have particularly studied, as it exhibits a 
specimen of considerable strength and harmony in that 
measure. Though the nature of the subject approaches 
nearly to that of Thomson, of whom he was a great 
admirer, his style is very different, being wholly free 
from that unnatural swell and pomp of words, which 
too often disfigure the beautiful descriptions of Thom- 
son. It represents an extensive and beautiful prospect 
in an animated and pleasing manner. It has much 
appropriate description and picturesque imagery ; and 
it is rendered interesting by poetical fictions, histori- 
cal allusions, and moral reflections. But it is not with- 
out defects ; there is a redundance of thought in some 
instances, and a carelessness of language in others. 
He has, however, availed himself of every circumstance 
that could with propriety be introduced to decorate his 
poem.* The story of Lomond and Levina is happily 
introduced, and simply and pleasingly related. It is 



* The reader has already been apprized that, in our opinion, 
there are some circumstances which he has omitted in the 
description of Lochleven that he might have introduced with 
propriety. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 87 

said to have been enlarged by Logan, and is perhaps 
too long. The picture of e the man of sorrows new 
risen from the bed of pain is natural and striking. 
f Lochleven Castle/ the < Inch/ the e Limestone 
Quarries/ the rivers Po, Queech, Leven and Gairny, 
e on whose banks he first tuned the Doric reed/ are 
graphically and poetically described. The compliment 
to Lselius is a pleasing digression, and the description 
of the character and dwelling of Agricola, towards the 
conclusion, has great merit. The poem is local ; and 
though local description is far more adapted to the pen- 
cil than the pen, yet it will be perused with delight by 
poetical lovers of rural imagery ; and must be pecu- 
liarly pleasing to those who are familiar with the pic- 
turesque scenery of Lochleven. 

60. u His ' D aprons' is an elegy on a deceased friend, 
written in the pastoral form, and, in general, well pre- 
serves the rural character. It has, however, but little 
of the bucolic cant, now so fashionable. If any trite 
rural topics occur, they are heightened and adorned 
with the graces of sentiment, and the most delicate 
touches of picturesque beauty. It may be considered 
as an effusion of mellowed sorrow, which can recapitu- 
late past pleasures, in all their minutiae of circumstance 
and situation, and select such images as are proper to 
the kind of composition in which it chooses to conve}^ 
itself. It is a professed imitation of Milton's c Lyci- 
das/ in which there is perhaps more poetry than sor- 
row ; but the poetry is in such an exquisite strain, that 
he who desires to know whether he has true taste 



88 LIFE OF 

for poetry or not, should consider whether he is highly- 
delighted or not with the perusal of e Lycidas/ 
Whether it should be considered as a model of com- 
position, has been doubted. Some have supposed that 
the arbitrary disposition of the rhymes produces a wild 
melody, adapted to the expression of sorrow ; and 
others have thought the couplet and tetrastic, with 
their stated returns of rhyme, preferable. To decide 
the point might be difficult ; but if the enthusiasm and 
beauty of the poetry could not reconcile Dr Johnson to 
the e uncertain rhymes' of ' Lycidas/ the common 
readers of poetry will probably incline to favour the 
regular form. With Milton in view, Bruce is not a 
servile imitator. He has an original manner of his own. 
Milton is his model for versification, and he sometimes 
copies his thoughts and his language. But his poem is 
not a perpetual tissue of the obsolete phraseology, Go- 
thic combinations, remote allusions, obscure opinions, 
and mythological personages of c Lycidas/ The poem, 
us it now stands, has several lines which are not in the 
copy sent to Mr Arnot ; the result, probably, of a sub- 
sequent emendation. 

61. " Of his ' Alexis/ the principal merit consists in 
the simplicity of the language, and the harmony of 
the versification. The images are not new, and the des- 
criptions and sentiments are trite and common/' 

62. a His ( Sir James the Ross' is probably c the 
poem in the Journal/ which was wrote, he tells Mr 
Pearson, e in one afternoon, begun about four, and 
finished before I went to bed. I never tried any thing 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 89 

which fell in with my inclination so. The e Histori- 
cal Ballad* is a species of writing by itself. The com- 
mon people confound it with the c Song/ but in truth 
they are widely different. A song should never be 
historical. It is founded generally on some one thought, 
which must be prosecuted and exhibited in every light, 
with a quickness and turn of expression peculiar to it- 
self. The ballad, again, is founded on some passage of 
history, or (what suits its nature better) of tradition. 
Here the poet may use his liberty, and cut and carve 
as he has a mind. I think it a kind of writing re- 
markably adapted to the Scottish language/ The dis- 
tinction is just, and beautifully exemplified. The his- 
torical ballad demands the nicest execution, and the 
most artful management. The simplicity that suits it 
is even unattainable by genius, without that chastised 
taste which seldom appears in poets of the highest 
class. It admits of magnificence of ideas, and of the 
sublime ; but should be careful not to deviate from na- 
ture. The marvellous air, and the supernatural actors, 
which figure and please in the grandeur of the epic, 
would here be extravagant and disproportioned. The 
incidents should be striking, the situations important, 
and tending to forward the action, the design without 
perplexity, the parts in proper relation to it, and to 
each other, the sentiments delicate and noble. To 
these requisites ' Sir James the Ross' is, in general, 
conformable. Whether we consider the beautiful sim- 
plicity of the story, the delicacy of its situations, the 
pathos of its discoveries, the exact delineation of the 



90 LIFE OF 

manners of the times to which it refers, the genuine 
strokes of nature and of passion, or the unremitting 
animation of the whole, we cannot but highly admire 
the mixture it exhibits of genius and of art. The story 
on which it is founded, though romantic, is interest- 
ing, and the more so^ as there is reason to believe it is 
in some measure authentic. It is a tale of tenderness 
and distress ; and challenges a place with the e Hardy- 
knute' of his countrymen, Sir John Bruce of Kinross, 
the e Owen of Carron' of Langhorne, and other suc- 
cessful imitations of the ancient historical ballad. This 
exquisite ballad is said to have received some embel- 
lishments from Logan. 

63. "His ' Danish Odes' are compositions of a supe- 
rior order. They possess, in an uncommon degree, the 
true fire of poetry, and harmony of versification. They 
appear to be modelled upon the ' Norse Odes' of 
Gray, and, in their contexture and tone, are much in 
the wild and wizard strains of his Runic lyre. He pro- 
bably thought this kind of minstrelsy best adapted to 
express the magic mysteries and romantic enthusiasm 
of the Gothic mythology. Assuming the fire and en- 
thusiasm of the old Runic bards, he gives full scope to 
the wildness of a glowing imagination, and the energy 
of forcible conception. But his ideas of Scandinavian 
poetry seem to have risen no higher than the imita- 
tions of Gray, which are in all probability such as he 
alone was capable of making them. They are instinct 
with fire and poetical enthusiasm. They are in per- 
fection the enthusiastic words — the words that burn — 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 91 

of the muses. In sublimity of conception, grandeur of 
imagery, and magnificence of phraseology, he is infe- 
rior to Gray ; but he has more simplicity, perspicuity, 
and elegance. His first Ode, in particular, breathes 
the high spirit of lyric enthusiasm. It is truly Runic, 
and truly Grayan. 

64. £< His f Elegy written in Spring/ is characteriz- 
ed by energy, simplicity, pathos, and melody, in the 
highest degree. From the circumstances in which it 
was written, the nature of its subject, and the merit 
of its execution, it has obtained an uncommon share of 
popularity. The influences and effects of Spring are ex- 
pressed by a selection of such imagery as are adapted 
to strike the imagination by lively pictures. The man- 
ner in which he describes its effects upon himself, is so 
pathetically circumstantial, and so universally inter- 
esting, that it powerfully awakens all our tenderness. 

but not to me returns 



The vernal joy my better years have known ; 
Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, 
And all the joys of life, with health are flown. 

€€ ' A young man of genius,'' says Lord Craig, ' in a 
deep consumption, at the age of twenty-one, feeling 
himself every moment going faster to decline, is an ob- 
ject sufficiently interesting ; but how much must every 
feeling on the occasion be heightened, when we know 
that this person possessed so much dignity and com- 
posure of mind, as not only to contemplate his ap- 
proaching fate, but even to write a poem on the sub- 



92 LIFE OF 

ject ! In the French language, there is a much ad- 
mired poem of the Abbe de Chaulieu, written in ex- 
pectation of his own death, to the Marquis de la Farre, 
lamenting his approaching separation from his friend. 
Michael Bruce, who, it is probable, never heard of the 
Abbe de Chaulieu, has also written a poem on his own 
approaching death, which cannot fail of touching the 
heart of every one who reads it/ " Several poets of 
our nation, in similar circumstances, have left compo- 
sitions on the same subject ; and more than one poet 
has been ambitious of the fame of poetic composition, 
a few hours before the perils of an engagement, when 
the attention of most men would be naturally occupied 
by more important concerns, than the adjustment of 
syllables, or the modulation of a period. " Dorset, c the 
grace of courts, the muse's pride/ on the day before the 
memorable sea-fight in 1665, is said to have composed 
the celebrated song, cc To all you Ladies now at Land/' 
with equal tranquillity of mind, and promptitude of wit. 
" The tender, the sentimental Abbe de Chaulieu, has 
left a poem on his approaching death, equally remark- 
able for elegance and feeling. Bruce must have heard 
of Dorset, and, it may be, of the Abbe de Chaulieu, as 
he was no stranger to the language in which he wrote ; 
but he is purely original in his thoughts. Nor can we 
deny to him the praise of collectedness and strength of 
mind in a superior degree, He views, without dismay, 
the insidious approaches of an incurable disease, which 
generally selects, for its prey, the fairest and most 
amiable victims ; and, without pretending to that 



MICHAEL BRUCE. Q3 

apathy,, surely unnatural to man in such circumstan- 
ces, he feels and acknowledges the gloominess of his 
prospects ; but turns his eyes in search of comfort to a 
world beyond the grave. 

" There let me sleep, forgotten in the clay, 

When death shall shut these weary aching eyes ; 
Rest in the hopes of an eternal day, 

Till the long night is gone, and the last morn arise." 

65. " His ludicrous pieces, the f Mousiad/ and 
i Anacreontic to a Wasp/ evince the versatility of his 
genius. They are not void of humour and pleasantry, 
but add little to his reputation. His Songs are ten- 
der and easy ; and well preserve the turn of the popu- 
lar ballads which he imitates. His verses to Dr Mil- 
lar, and Elegy on Mr M'Ewen, have some effusions of 
sentiment and delineations of character that are not 
without merit ; but they require no distinct examina- 
tion or particular criticism. 

66. '* e If images of nature/ says Logan, ( that are 
beautiful and new ; if sentiments, warm from the heart, 
interesting and pathetic ; if a style, chaste with orna- 
ment, and elegant with simplicity ; if these, and many 
other beauties of nature and art, are allowed to con- 
stitute true poetic merit, the following poems will 
stand high in the judgment of men of taste/ " 

67. " The reader has been already apprized that 
Bruce died in the month of July 1767. In the autumn 
of the same year, Logan, then a tutor in the family of 



9^ LIFE OF 

Sir John Sinclair,* came to Kinnesswood and prevailed 
upon the friends of the poet to furnish him with his 
manuscripts, which he knew were in a state of prepa- 
ration for the press ; as also the letters written to and 
by him, and particularly those which he had himself 
addressed to him. In compliance with this request, 
every person who had ever been known to correspond 
with Bruce was importuned to furnish Logan with his 
letters, which w T as in every case done, and the few 
epistles which appear in these pages are merely those 
that escaped the search, or those of which duplicates 
had been taken. Before leaving Kinnesswood he as- 
sured the poet's parents that every paper with which 
they had entrusted him would be carefully returned, 
and that he had no doubt as to his being able to 



* It is somewhat singular that in the recently published 
" Life and Correspondence of Sir John Sinclair, Bart.," by his - 
son, no mention is made of Logan having been his tutor, and 
it would appear from the following letter that the worthy Ba- 
ronet did not care to mention the fact to his family. " Lon- 
don, 25th February 1837 Rev. Sir, I regret that I cannot 

furnish you with any information on the subject to which you 
refer. As my father never happened, so far as I can recol- 
lect, to speak to me of his connection with Mr Logan, it of 
course is quite at your option to publish any statement of 
which you are in possession without in the slightest degree 
hurting my feelings, or as I think injuring the character of 
my family.'" — Letter from the Right Hon. Sir George Sin- 
clair, Bart. M. P., to the Editor. 

The writer deems it necessary to state here, that it was not 
till after the correspondence with the Right Honourable Ba- 
ronet, he learned that Logan had left his father's house before 
sending the poems of Bruce to the press. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 95 

realize for them, by the publication of their son's 
poems, such a sum of money as should maintain 
them comfortably during the remaining part of their 
lives. 

68. The second year had passed away after Lo- 
' gan's visit toKinnesswood without any intimation ha- 
ving reached Bruce's relatives as to what progress had 
been made in the projected publication. Wearied by 
delay, his father addressed a letter to Logan demand- 
ing that the manuscripts be either sent forthwith to 
the press, or returned. He received no answer. The 
first letter was followed by several others with the 
same effec*. At length in 1770, three years after the 
papers had been delivered up for the purpose, a volume 
appeared containing nineteen poems, under the title ; 
" Poems, on several occasions, by Michael Bruce/' 
but without the Editor's name appearing any where in 
the book, or any explanation being given as to how the 
manuscripts came into his hands, or what interest he 
had in the volume. Whilst the title-page bore that 
the poems were by Michael Bruce, it was stated in the 
preface that only a portion of them was written by 
him, without its being said who were entitled to the 
credit of the remainder. As this preface formed one 
of the grounds upon which a judgment was given by 
a Lord Ordinary of the Court of Session, in the case 
to which we are about to call the reader's attention, it 
is necessary we transcribe a part of it into these pages. 
i( It was during the summer vacations of the College 
that he (Bruce) composed the following poems. * * * 



96 LIFE OF 

To make up a miscellany, some poems wrote by dif- 
ferent authors, are inserted ; all of them original, and 
none of them destitute of merit. The reader of taste 
will easily distinguish them from those of Mr Bruce, 
without these being particularized by any mark. Se- 
veral of these poems have been approved by persons of 
the first taste in the kingdom, and the Editor publishes 
them to that small circle for whom they are intended, 
not with solicitude mid anxiety, but with the pleasur- 
able reflection that he is furnishing out a classical en- 
tertainment to every reader of refined taste/'* 

69. No reason is here assigned why the Editor was 
necessitated to have recourse to the works of others to 
make up a volume, but the reader is left to infer that 
the number of poems left by Bruce was inadequate to 
the purpose. But that there was no deficiency either 
in number or variety will appear from the fact that 
c< The Last Day/' which occupies a large portion of 
this volume, with the song, " Lochleven No More/' 



* The conduct pursued by Logan, as described by himself 
in this preface, has been reprobated even by those who have 
regarded him as stating what was perfectly accordant with 
truth. " Had he been only as scrupulously just to the lite- 
rary fame, as he has been liberal of praise to the personal cha- 
racter of Bruce, their names could never have been mention- 
ed in conjunction but with undivided applause. As Editor 
of Bruce's works, however, he has been guilty of an infide- 
lity, which, as it is of a sort which poisons the very well- 
springs of literary history, cannot be too severely condem- 
ned." — Lives of the Scottish Poets. Article, Logan. 22. Lon- 
don. T. Boys. 1822. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 97 

" Elegy on the Death of Mr M'Ewan/'* and « Verses 
to I)r Miller/'-j; were omitted by him,, besides the fol- 
lowing pieces which have not been recovered : — " Sa- 
cred Metaphors/' a number of Scripture figures poeti- 
cally illustrated ; Verses on a Wandering Idiot Boy 
belonging to the parish ; " The Dying Swan ;' an 
Elegy on the Death of Mrs White of Balgedie ; a 
Poetical Epistle to a Gentleman in Kinross ; Song on 
reading some Verses by David Pearson ; a Poem on 
the Immortality of the Soul ; u Verses on reading 
Erskine's Sonnets ; Paraphrase of David's Lamentation 
over Saul and Jonathan ;" Verses on the Tobacco 
Plant, of which the following were some of the lines : — 

The sage beside his evening lamp reclined, 
Revolving schemes and systems in his mind, 
Thy power confesses ; whilst the Bard divine 
The muse's inspiration helps with thine. 

There was also a piece entitled " Fungus ;" and the 



* Dr Anderson, in whose "Lives of the British Poets" these 
pieces first appeared, says, that they were not submitted to 
Logan, but on this point he has been misinformed. They 
were furnished to himself and Principal Baird by Mr Birrel, 
from some loose papers presented to him by the poet's father 
on his deathbed, who affirmed that he had personally recover- 
ed them from Logan. They are now in the possession of the 
present writer, and besides the pieces named above, contain 
the first draught of the poem on " Lochleven." 

•f " It was from knowing Logan to be Michael's friend that 
I delivered up to him several pieces, among which was the 
poem to Dr Miller. What you have seen is only the preamble 
to it." — Letter from David Pear son to Dr Anderson. 
G 



98 LIFE OP 

writer has reason to believe that there were a number 
of satires, for, on a slip of paper in his possession, 
there is this note in the poet's handwriting, " Add to 
Satire first ;" and then these lines follow : — 

Or shall we weep, or grow into the spleen, 

Or shall we laugh at the fantastic scene, 

To see a dull mechanic, in a fit, 

Throw down his plane, and strive to be a wit. 

Thus wrote De Foe, a tedious length of years, 

And bravely lost his conscience and his ears, 

To see a priest eke out the great design, 

And tug with Latin points the halting line. 

"Who would not laugh, if two such men there were ? 

Such there have been — I don't say such there are. 

There were also many other pieces, of which we have 
not been able to learn the titles or the subjects, but 
which were familiar to those who had an opportunity 
of seeing Bruce' s manuscript volume, or of hearing 
them repeated, but of which they were not able to 
give a sufficient account, to enable their interrogators 
to designate them. There were also a number of 
Hymns, of which we must state the origin, in order 
that w r e may be able to identify them, for they have 
since been published under Logan's name. 

70. But we must first observe, that it was matter 
of surprise to all Bruce's acquaintances when they 
read the volume published under his name, that there 
should be nothing in the book which bespoke the reli- 
gious feelings of the poet, the peculiarity by which, in 
his intercourse with them, he was chiefly distinguished. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 9g 

If the " Ode to Spring'' had been left out, there would 
have scarcely been a line in the whole book indicating 
a mind impressed with pious sentiments; and the 
universal conclusion was, that either they had been 
deceived in Michael Bruce, or that the book did not 
contain the whole of his productions. Many of them, 
however, could repeat verses, breathing the most ar- 
dent devotion, which they knew to be written by our 
poet, not one of which had appeared, nor any explana- 
tion afforded, why they were withheld. When the 
volume was put into old Bruce's hands, he glanced 
over its contents, and, bursting into a flood of tears, 
exclaimed, " Where are my son's Gospel Sonnets." 
Such was the title by which he designated a number 
of poetical versions of Scripture composed by Michael, 
which he held in the highest admiration, but for 
which he knew no other name than that given by 
Ralph Erskine to similar productions. 

71. The circumstance which first led our poet to 
write hymns has been rendered memorable in Kin- 
nesswood, by its contributing, at the same time, to 
form a taste for sacred music among its inhabitants, 
for which they are still celebrated.* About the pe- 



* Many of the churches in the surrounding district have 
long been supplied with precentors from the village of Kin- 
nesswood. Upon one occasion, when some difficulty was 
found in procuring a person' to conduct the psalmody of a con- 
gregation in a neighbouring town, one of the heritors sug- 
gested that they should send the beadle over to Portmoak, 



100 LIFE OF 

riod to which our narrative refers, a farmer of the name 
of Gibson settled in the village with his family, all the 
members of which were fond of church music, and one 
of them, afterwards a preacher in connection with the 
Established Church, took delight in teaching this art 
to such of the villagers as would receive his instruc- 
tions. Among the youths who benefited by his lessons, 
was one John Buchan, who, after residing in several 
towns with a view to improve himself in his profession 
as a mason, returned to his native village, where he 
taught church music, and introduced a number of new 
tunes which he had learned in the places he had visit- 
ed. Till then, " the old eight," * as they are now 
emphatically called, were considered the only tunes 
which it was lawful to sing in country congregations, 
and, consequently, were all that it was deemed neces- 
sary or proper to learn ; but in town churches a few 
others had begun to be added to the number.t In the 
summer of 1764, Michael Bruce joined Buchan's class. 
At the time of his doing so, the following doggerel 



and lie would find one in the peat moss; meaning, that any 
of the workmen there would be competent for the office. 
During the last fspring two concerts, — one in Kinross, the 
other in Balgedie, — were conducted by the Kinnesswood 
Musical Society, at which sixty pounds were raised for chari- 
table purposes. 

* These were " French, Dundee, Stilt or York, Newton, 
Elgin, London, Martyrs, Abbey." 

-j- Among these were " St David's, St Paul's, St Thomas's, 
St Ann's." 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 101 

rhymes, among others, were sung by the pupils when 
practising in school : — 

" mother, dear Jerusalem, 
When shall I come to thee ? 
When shall my sorrows have an end, 
Thy joys when shall I see ?" 

" The Martyrs' tune, above the rest, 
Distinguish' d is by fame ; 
On their account I'll sing this 
In honour of their name." 

'* Fair London town, where dwells the King, 
On his imperial throne, 
With all his court attending him, 
Still waiting him upon.'' 

Buchan, knowing Bruce to be both a poet and a scho- 
lar, requested him to furnish the class with verses 
which might be substituted for those we have quoted, 
which he considered as destitute of sentiment, and cal- 
culated to produce a ludicrous effect when sung to so- 
lemn airs. With this request Bruce complied, and 
wrote a number of hymns, several verses of which, in 
consequence of being often sung in these rehearsals, 
became familiar to the inhabitants of the parish. The 
following have been attested to the writer as among 
the number : — 

u happy is the man who hears . 
Instruction's warning voice ; 
And who celestial wisdom makes 
His early, only choice*" 



102 LIFE OF 

" Few are thy days, and full of woe, 
O man of woman born ; 
Thy doom is written, Dust thou art, 
And shalt to dust return." 

" The beam that shines from Zion hill 
Shall lighten every land ; 
The King that reigns in Salem's tow'rs 
Shall all the world command." 

72. Logan published a volume of Poems in his own 
name eleven years after he had given those of Bruce 
to the world. In that volume there are nine hymns, 
which, with other two furnished by Logan, were 
adopted the same year by the General Assembly as 
part of an enlargement which they made to the collec- 
tion of Paraphrases previously added to the psalmody 
of the Church. In the viii. xi. and xviii. of this 
collection, the verses above quoted occur, and we 
have inserted these hymns in this edition of Bruce's 
poems ; holding, for the reasons already assigned, and 
for others which will be presently given, that they 
were written by our poet.* These are all which our 



* These hymns, for more than half a century, have been 
assigned in our schools as tasks for exercising the memory ; 
and we observe that the " Second Book of Lessons for the use 
of the Irish National Schools" also contains these para- 
phrases ; so that Michael Bruce, an obscure peasant when in 
life, is now exerting an influence in improving the mind, and 
forming the character of a whole nation. Nor is this influ- 
ence confined to Scotland and Ireland, but is also in active 
operation in America, where these hymns are used in many 
of the churches and schools. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 103 

informants have been able to identify with certainty ; 
and we will not venture to claim any piece for Bruce 
when we have not satisfactory evidence that it really 
belonged to him. Others less scrupulous on this 
point might, with perfect propriety, have inserted 
the whole eleven ;* for it is almost conceded by one 
biographer of Logan, who boasts his personal inti- 
macy with the subject of his eulogy, that " Bruce 
might have left hymns in a more or less polished state, 
and these hymns might have been altered, embellished, 
and published by Logan as his own.f But it may 
be reasonably questioned if Bruce ever saw the Trans- 
lations and Paraphrases which form the ground-work 
of no less than four of these Hymns ; and if he did, 
what motive could he have for trying to improve upon 



* These are, as they stand in the Assembly's collection of 
Paraphrases, the viii. ix. x. xi. xviii. xxiii. xxxi. xxxviii. 
xlviii. liii. lviii. 

■f* It is strange that a biographer could make this admission 
without any animadversion on the dishonourable conduct 
which he here supposes possible. Why did Logan not publish 
the hymns written by Bruce, which were the groundwork of 
these paraphrases ? Or why did he not state, in the preface to 
Bruce's works, that certain hymns had come into his posses- 
sion along with the other manuscripts, but that they were too 
imperfect for publication ? Or, assuming that he did so im- 
prove them as to make them in some measure his own, why 
did he not acknowledge that the crude materials were col- 
lected by the friend whose works he had edited ? This much 
he was bound in honour to do, as has been done in the case 
of the other paraphrases; and for such omission he merits 
the severest reprobation. 



104 LIEE OF 

them, when so many other passages of Scripture, equal- 
ly suitable to his genius, opened an unoccupied field 
for displaying it ? If these observations carry any 
weight in support of Logan's claims to the improve- 
ment of former hymns, they strengthen thereby the 
presumption of his being the author of the others ; for 
both bear intrinsic and evident marks of coming from 
the same pen — they breathe the same spirit — they are 
executed in the same style. Here, as in the case of 
the Cuckoo, the probability is in his favour."* We 
shall shew in the sequel, that the Cuckoo is no more 
Logans than the hymns ; and, if the authorship of the 
one establishes the authorship of the other, as this 
biographer would argue, the " probability" (the cer- 
tainty) will not be in favour of Logan, but of Bruce. 

73. The statements which we have made respect- 
ing the circumstance of Bruce's writing hymns, none 
of which appeared in his works as published by Logan, 
were confirmed by James, the poet's brother, who died 
in 1814. He was often interrogated upon the subject, 
and declared in the most solemn manner that all the 
paraphrases published in Logan's name were written 
by his brother Michael, that he had often read them, 
heard them often repeated, and frequently sung por- 
tions of them in Buehan's class long before the addi- 
tion to the Assembly's collection was heard of; that he 
had good reason to remember them, for in consequence 



* Life of Logan prefixed to his Poems. Bell and Brad- 
lute, 1812, 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 105 

of some pious people in the parish being greatly scan- 
dalized by such devotional sentiments as his brother 
had furnished being repeated either for amusement or 
improvement, he, with David Pearson and others, had 
strung together some uncouth rhymes, which had ever 
since continued to be sung by the youths in the vil- 
lage when practising church music. Mr Birrel taught 
psalmody in Kinnesswood after the death of Buchan, 
and had abundant opportunities of ascertaining the 
correctness of these averments, all of which he corro- 
borated to the writer of this narrative. 

74. When Dr Anderson was wishing information 
for his Life of Bruce, Mr Birrel referred him to David 
Pearson, who replied to the Doctor's letter in the fol- 
lowing terms : i{ They may as well ascribe to Logan 
the framing of the universe as the writing of these 
poems. * * * There were many excellent poems 
in this book, a part of which furnishes Logan's own 
collection. I perfectly remember several lines. Thus 
in " The Complaint of Nature," 

" Who from the cearments of the tomb 
Can raise the human mold i" 

Another hymn which Bruce wrote upon the Millennium 
Logan has copied what I remember perfectly, 

" The beam that shines from Zion's hill 
Shall lighten every land, 
The King that reigns in Salem's tow'rs 
Shall all the world command." * 

" " I never heard any of the Scripture paraphrases attri- 



106 LIFE OF 

" These hymns as they stand in Logan's works, are 
considerably altered. With many other excellent 
poems, Logan got them the same year Michael died, and 
it was not till three years after that any of them was 
printed, so that in the interval his friends might see 
them in his handwriting, but not sooner." * 

75. That Pearson was certain to know the fact of 
Brace's having written such hymns, has been rendered 
evident to the writer, not merely by his knowledge of 
the circumstance that Pearson attended Buchan's class 
along with the poet, where he would hear portions of 
these hymns sung ; but also from his knowing that he 
wrote verses upon the same or kindred subjects with 
those which engaged Brace's muse ; and having his 
manuscripts at present in possession, the writer is 
able to state that they contain twenty-eight para- 
phrases upon Scripture passages. The book into which 
some of these were first transcribed, bears upon its 
title-page, to have been prepared for their reception on 
the 12th May 1774, so that they must have been 
written previous to that date. Several of the poems in 
this collection have been transcribed by Mr Birrel, 



buted to Bruce except the xviii, which I have long admired 
for the peculiar melody which pervades it, and am inclined 
to consider it as an effusion of his genius.'" — Letter from Pro- 
fessor Davidson, Aberdeen, to the Editor. 

* Other parts of this letter will be quoted in those places 
where they bear upon the point under discussion. We pre- 
fer this method, to giving it all at once as more calculated to 
give force to the evidence. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 107 

who likely inserted them when he wrote the title- 
page, which he was probably requested to do as a good 
penman. 

76. In order that the reader may judge from inter- 
nal evidence whether or not the hymn published by 
Logan as his own, and entitled, i€ The Complaint of 
Nature/'* is Brace's, as we affirm it to be, we place 
two of its stanzas in juxtaposition with the fragment 
which we have given as a foot-note in p. 76. 

" When chill the blast of winter blows, 
Away the summer flies, 
The flowers resign their sunny robes, 
And all their beauty dies. 

€C Nipt by the year, the forest fades, 
And, shaking to the wind, 
The leaves toss to and fro, and streak 
The wilderness behind. " 

" The hoar-frost glitters on the ground, the frequent 
leaf falls from the wood and tosses to and fro down in 
the wind. The summer is gone with all his flowers ; 
summer ! the season of the muses, yet not the more 
cease I to wander where the muses haunt near spring 
or shadow grove, or sunny hill. It was on a calm 
morning, while yet the darkness strove with the doubt- 
ful twilight. I rose and walked out under the opening 
eyelids of the morn." Let the reader also compare the 
following stanzas of Brace's f 'Ode to Spring," with the 



* The viii. paraphrase in the Assembly's collection, some- 
what altered. 



108 LIFE OF 

hymn which Logan claims, and the fragment as above 
quoted, and he cannot fail, we think, to conclude that 
they are all the production of the same mind. 

" Loos'd from the bands of frost, the verdant ground 
Again puts on her robe of cheerful green, 
Again puts forth her flow'rs, and all around 
Smiling the cheerful face of Spring is seen. 



Thus have I walk'd along the dewy lawn, 

My frequent foot the blooming wild hath worn ; 

Before the lark I've sung the beauteous dawn, 
And gather' d health from all the gales of morn. 

And, even when winter chilled the aged year, 
I wandered lonely o'er the hoary plain, 

Tho' frosty Boreas warned me to forbear ; 

Boreas with all his tempests, warn'd in vain." * 

77. The father of Bruce feeling indignant at the in- 
justice which he considered had been done to his son's 
memory, resolved upon recovering the MSS. from Logan 
and publishing them himself. With this view he 
collected a few shillings which were due him and set 
out for Edinburgh, where he was an entire stranger, 
never having been before in the metropolis. He found 
his way to the house of Sir John Sinclair, where he 
was informed that Logan had left the Baronet's family 
some time before, but that he would either find him or 
hear of him at the house of Bailie Logan in Leith Wynd. 

* These stanzas are the latter part of the fragment versi- 
fied. Are not the stanzas in the paraphrase the first part * 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 109 

Thither he went. The object of his search was not 
within. Whilst strolling about in order to put off the 
time, he met him upon Leith Walk, and stated to him 
the reason of his coming to town, and accused him of 
having kept from the public the best part of his son s 
poems. Logan took him to his lodgings where he de- 
livered to him a few loose papers containing the first 
draught of " Lochleven," (i The Last Day/' and 
" Lochleven No More/' expecting he would be content 
with these. But the old man insisted upon having 
his son's manuscript volume, containing his collection 
of transcribed pieces. Logan professed not to be able 
to lay his hand upon this, but promised to make search 
for it. When Bruce returned the following day, Lo- 
gan was not prepared to furnish the book, and express- 
ed his fears that the servants had singed fowls with it. 
Bruce then demanded some account of the money de- 
rived from the publication, but on this point he receiv- 
ed no satisfaction. 

78. The old man returned home much dejected. 
From the shock which he had received by the death of 
his son he had not fully recovered, and this disap- 
pointment made his wound bleed afresh. He began 
shortly after to complain of great weakness. Whilst 
confined to bed, he was often visited by Mr Birrel, to 
whom he made the statements given above, and pre- 
sented him with the few papers which he had reco- 
vered from Logan. It was then also that Mr Birrel 
learned that Logan had sent six copies of the volume 
which he had edited, to the poet's father, and one to 



110 LIFE OF 

Mr Bruce of Arnot, who sent a present of a guinea 
to the poet's family, as an acknowledgment for the 
gift, and that the old man, in his last illness, having 
no money, sent one of the six copies which he had 
thus received, to Alexander Brown, a publican, in 
Scotlandwell, who let him have a pint of ale for the 
book, and that this was all the pecuniary benefit the 
family ever received from Logan's edition of Michael's 
poems. Alexander Bruce died on the 19th of July 
1772, two years after his toilsome and disagreeable 
journey to Edinburgh.* 

79- In 1781, as already stated, Logan published a 
volume of poems in his own name, and in this collec- 
tion reprinted the " Ode to the Cuckoo/' which had pre- 
viously appeared in the volume of which he was edi- 
tor, entitled " Poems on several occasions, by Michael 
Bruce." He did not condescend to explain how he 
came to appropriate this piece to himself, but left the 
public to infer that it was really his. The person 
who wrote his life, however, has not permitted Logan's 
right to this ode to be inferred merely from his inser- 
tion of it among his own pieces ; for he makes the 
following statement: — ci The only pieces which Lo- 
gan himself ever acknowledged, in his conversations 
with the compiler of this biographical sketch, were the 
Story of Levina, the Ode to Paoli, and the Cuckoo. 

* The worst thing that Alexander Bruce was ever heard to 
say of Logan on his deathbed was, that he deeply regretted 
he should have acted so dishonourable a part to him, but he 
freely forgave him, and hoped God would forgive him too. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. Ill 

The last was handed about and highly extolled among 
his literary acquaintances in East-Lothian, long before 
its publication, probably (though not certainly) in 
I767, * as he did not reside there at all in 1768, and 
very little in 1769. This fact, and his inserting it as 
his own, in a small volume, eleven years afterwards, 
seem pretty decisive of his claims/' t Mrs Hutche- 
son, wife of Mr John Hutcheson, merchant, Edinburgh, 
and cousin to Mr Logan, assured Dr Anderson that 
she saw the " Ode to the Cuckoo" in her relative's 
handwriting, before it was printed, respecting which 
statement that gentleman has remarked, that " If the 
testimonies of Dr Robertson and Mrs Hutcheson went 
the length of establishing the existence of the ode in 
Logan's handwriting in Bruce' s lifetime, or before the 

* The reader will remember that this is the year in which 
Bruce died, and in which Logan obtained his MSS. 

•f Life of Logan prefixed to his poems. This Life being 
anonymous, and therefore of disputable authority, the pre- 
sent editor was anxious to afford an opportunity to the wri- 
ter of giving the weight of his name to his statement, and 
with this view addressed a note to the publishers, from whom 
he received the following reply : — 

w Sir, Edinburgh, ",th January 183". 

In reply to your letter of the "2d, as to the au- 
thor of Logan's Life, we think it was written by a Rev. Doc- 
tor of the Church of Scotland now deceased ; but as we are 
not quite certain of this — excuse us for not mentioning his 
name We are, &c. Bell & Bradfute/' 

The general belief is, that the Life of Logan, quoted above, 
was written by the Rev. Dr Robertson of Dalmeny, one of 
his executors ; but we can hardly believe it to have been so, 
for it contains much eulogv on that gentleman. 



112 LIFE OF 

MSS. came into Logan's possession,, they might be con- 
sidered decisive of the controversy. The* suppression 
of Brace's MSS., it must be owned, is a circumstance 
unfavourable to the pretensions of Logan/' 

80. Such are the claims put forward by Logan and 
his friends to the authorship of one of the most beau- 
tiful Lyrics in our language. It shall now be our 
business to shew that these claims are unfounded; 
and if common report, as it prevails in Brace's birth- 
place, is to be allowed any weight, the controversy 
would be at once determined in favour of our poet ; 
for it is there averred, that many of the young men 
who were Brace's contemporaries, could repeat the 
(i Ode to the Cuckoo," and that they learned it from 
copies furnished by himself. The circumstance is yet 
well remembered of one of the parishioners shooting a 
cuckoo — a thing of very rare occurrence — the bird be- 
ing very shy, and, though often heard, seldom seen, 
when Ann Bruce, our poet's mother, went with a 
number of the villagers to see the wonder, remarking 
at the same time, " Will that be the bird our Michael 
made a sang about ?" But we are aware that more 
satisfactory evidence than this is necessary to esta- 
blish the point, although this ought, and no doubt 
w r ill, form an element in the judgment of every mind 
capable of weighing evidence. 

82. Aware that the Lord Chief Commissioner Adam, 
who feels a deep interest in every matter which con- 
cerns the county of Kinross, had made some investi- 
gation into this question, we addressed a letter to his 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 113 

Lordship, requesting him to state the amount of know- 
ledge which he had gained by his inquiries, when he 
kindly replied as follows : — c ' Dr Davidson of Aber- 
deen informed me that his father, Dr Davidson of 
Kinross, told him that he had seen a letter from Mi- 
chael Bruce, in which he said, e You will think me ill 
employed, for I am writing a poem about a gowk/ " * 
The date of this letter, as I understand, fell in with 
the period of Bruce' s being in the habit of writing his 
poems, and the style and sentiments of it were very si- 
milar to the ' Elegy to Spring ;' and I have understood, 
that Logan never assumed to himself being the author 
of the Cuckoo. For better information you might 
write to Dr Davidson, Professor of Natural and Civil 
History, Marischal College, Aberdeen, and mention 
that you do it at my desire. * * * I ought 
to have mentioned that Mr Bennet of Gairny Bridge, 
the Seceding clergyman, told me that he believed, or 
rather that he knew, that Bruce was the author of 
the Cuckoo. " { In compliance with his Lordship's 
suggestion, we addressed a letter to Dr Davidson, to 
whom, and to his Lordship, we beg leave to return our 
thanks, for their interesting and friendly communica- 
tions. The following is that part of the Doctor's let- 



* Anglice cuckoo. 

•J" Mr Bennet was a fellow-student with Bruce, but not 
succeeding in obtaining a call to a congregation, betook him- 
self to the cultivation of his paternal inheritance, the lands of 
Gairny, and, from these circumstances, may be supposed to 
have had ample opportunities of knowing the fact. 
H 



114 LIFE OF 

ter which bears upon the subject : — " The informa- 
tion you have received from the Lord Chief Commis- 
sioner is in every respect correct ; but in addition to 
what my father told me (as stated in his Lordship's 
letter), he also told me that the letter containing the 
poem was in the possession of a Mr Bickerton, residing 
either at Kinnesswood or Scotlandwell, but, at this dis- 
tance of time, I cannot certainly recollect which. But 
soon after this, I was paying a visit to Colonel Douglas 
of Strathenry ; when passing through Kinnesswood, I 
met a Mr Birrel, an acquaintance of my father's, who 
introduced me to Mr Bickerton, who shewed me the 
poem written upon a very small quarto page,* with 
a single line below it, nearly in the words as stated 
by the Lord Chief Commissioner, and signed Michael 
Bruce, The words were, as nearly as I can recall 
them, ' You will think I might have been better em- 
ployed than writing about a gowk/ If I recollect 
right, the word Glasgow was written on one corner 
of the paper, but no date. The handwriting was 
small and cramped,"]* and not very legible ; but as I 
had not seen Bruce' s handwriting, I could not posi- 
tively say that the handwriting was his, although 

* All Bruce's letters which we have seen are written upon 
half a sheet of long paper, such as boys use for writing copies? 
doubled, which makes a small quarto page. 

-|- Bruce's handwriting was neat, but he was in the habit 
of introducing contractions into his words, and in his letters 
to Pearson often used shorthand characters, which Pearson 
also wrote. These circumstances gave his writing, at first 
sight, a cramped appearance. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 115 

Mr Bickertori assured me that it was. I cannot be 
perfectly certain in what year I saw the manuscript, 
but, from some circumstances which occurred about 
that period, I am inclined to believe that it was in 
the year 1786 or thereby. I may observe, that there 
were some slight differences between the manuscript 
which I saw and the copy published in Logan's poems. 
The word 6 attendant ' was used in place of c compa- 
nion/ and several other variations, but of no import- 
ance. I shall be most happy if what I have stated 
can be of any use to you in your projected edition, 
and if there are any dubious points in Bruce's life 
which would require to be cleared up, perhaps I might 
be able to give you some information, as my father 
and I had many conversations regarding him ; and 
he had good opportunities of knowing him from being 
his medical attendant. You must not judge of my 
good will from the delay that has taken place in my 
answering your first application, but be assured that 
I shall do all I can in assisting you to illustrate the 
poems of that young and unfortunate genius, who does 
so much honour to Kinross-shire/'* 



* " When Logan's poems first made their appearance, and 
amongst them Bruce's beautiful ode to the Cuckoo, Dr Gray, 
at that time minister of Abernethy, being asked if he had 
read them and what he thought of them, replied " I kenna, 
I aye thought John Logan was a flichtering, fluttering fallow, 
but I never thought he was sae far gaen as to tak it in his 
head to flee round the warl haudmg by the gowk's tail."— 
Subsequent Letter from Professor Davidson to the Editor. 



116 LIFE OF 

83. We have already stated that Mr Birrel referred 
Dr Anderson to Mr David Pearson for information, 
when preparing his Life of Bruce. In consequence of 
this reference, a correspondence commenced between 
them, and we deem it necessary to give one of the 
Doctor's letters to Pearson, the original of which is now 
before us: — " Heriofs Green, Dec. 24. 1795. — Sir, 
I duly received the favour of your letter, written so 
long ago, that I am ashamed to think how long it is. 
Be assured, that it was not from want of respect that 
I have delayed my thanks for it till now. The poeti- 
cal compliment with which you conclude your letter 
was very grateful to me, as it was at once a proof of 
your veneration for the memory of Bruce, and a testi- 
mony of your approbation of my endeavours to do 
justice to his merit. I have since seen your account 
of Bruce, which, so far as it goes, is pleasing and in- 
teresting. I hope, however, you will do me the jus- 
tice to cancel the sentence relating to me. I do not 
complain of its coldness, but of its unfairness. In my 
narrative, I followed Dr Baird's authority in ascri- 
bing the f Ode to the Cuckoo ' to Logan, who had in- 
deed himself claimed it, and, till I saw Mr Birrel, I had 
no doubt of his being the indisputable author of it. 
In my Life of Logan, which Mr Birrel will shew you, 
I have fairly stated your claim for Bruce. Drs Robert- 
son and Hardy oppose it, so that it is incumbent upon 
you to state the particular reasons you have for your 
opinion with respect to that ode, the hymns, and other 
pieces in question. Any additional information which 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 117 

you may think proper to communicate to me shall be 
faithfully noticed in my { Lives of the Poets/ corrected 
and enlarged, to be soon published separately." 

84. The reader will observe that Dr Anderson, ac- 
cording to his own account, had assigned the u Ode to 
the Cuckoo " to Logan, upon Dr Baird' s authority. 
Now it is necessary to inform him that, in the year 
following that in which he gave Dr Anderson the 
sanction of his authority for assigning this ode to Lo- 
gan, Dr Baird published a new edition of Bruce's 
Poems in behoof of the poet's mother, in which he in- 
serted the ' c Ode to the Cuckoo " without note or 
comment ; thus awarding to Bruce, what he had for- 
merly claimed for his friend Logan, and what he was 
aware Logan had claimed for himself. The reason for 
this apparent inconsistency, on the part of Dr Baird, 
in whose commendation we have yet much to say, is 
explained in a letter to Mr John Birrel, from Mr John 
Hervey, merchant, Stirling, with whose character, 
and connection with this publication, the reader will 
be made acquainted in a subsequent stage of this nar- 
rative. " He" (Dr Baird) " has found the Cuckoo to 
be Michael Bruce's, and has the original in his own 
hand wri ting/' 

85. In reply to Dr Anderson's enquiry as to his 
particular reason for supposing the ode in question to 
be Michael Bruce's, David Pearson wrote (we quote 
from the original letter), " When I came to visit his 
father a few days after Michael's death, he went and 
brought forth his poem book and read the c Ode to the 



118 LIFE OP 

Cuckoo.'* and the e Musiad/ at which the good old 
man was greatly overcome." 

86. In the preceding paragraphs, we have been 
adducing evidence, and we purpose to advance still 
stronger proof, against Logan's claim to any portion of 
the poems published in Bruce's name ; but we shall 
here digress for a moment to give the opinion of a 
learned gentleman, who has had more opportunity of 
examining the evidence in favour of Logan than of 
Bruce. Having been informed that Logan's MSS. had 
been in the hands of a son of the celebrated Henry Mac- 
kenzie, author of " The Man of Feeling/' whence they 
passed into the hands of a Mr Miller, and not being 
aware that Mr Mackenzie had had more sons than the 
present Lord Mackenzie, one of the Judges of the 
Court of Session, we addressed a letter to his Lord- . 
ship, requesting some account of Logan's papers, their 
contents, and their fate ; and we are now called to ex- 



* " The Cuckoo, one of the poems whose parentage is thus 
left in doubt, deserves to rank among the first productions 
of the English language. As Logan lived to establish a far 
higher literary and poetical character than Bruce, the world 
have seemed willing to regard him as the author ; but it is 
worthy of remark that, when Logan published the Cuckoo 
as the production of his friend, he had little more than 
reached the age at which that friend died, and certainly there 
is no such disparity in poetical rank between them, as to 
make it less probable that Bruce, who, like the swan, might 
sing sweetest when dying, should have been the author of 
the poem, than that Logan should have written it while as 
yet in the infancy of his powers. " — Lives of the Scottish Poets, 
Article, M. Bruce. London: T. Boys, 1822. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 119 

press our obligations to his Lordship for his very kind 
letter, of which the following is a part : — cc Belmont, 
by Corstorphine, Edinburgh, 12th December 1836. 
Reverend Sir, — I am very willing to aid your inquiry 
as far as it is in my power. All I can say, however, 
is this : The Rev. Dr Donald Grant of London Street, 
London, was Logan's executor. I was boarded for a 
short time in Dr Grant's house about the year 1796, 
and I have a recollection of seeing some papers in the 
handwriting, as I understood, of Logan, One of these 
was the ; Ode to the Cuckoo/ but others were mere 
copies of pieces of poetry, extracted from the works, 
certainly not of Logan, but of other well-known au- 
thors ; so that he might have written out the Cuckoo, 
though written originally by Bruce, as he copied 
others.* Dr Grant never gave me papers, nor did I 

* Lord Mackenzie has had good reason to attach little im- 
portance to the circumstance of a man's laying claim to the 
authorship of a work, from the mere fact of a manuscript of that 
work being found in his handwriting, since the following in- 
cident occurred in his father's history. " When in London, Mr 
Mackenzie sketched some part of his first and very popular 
work, the Man of Feeling, which was published in 1771, without 
his name, and was so much a favourite with the public as to 
become, in afew years, the occasion of a remarkable fraud. A 
Mr Eccles of Bath, observing the continued mystery as to the 
author, laid claim to the work as his own, and in order to sup- 
port his pretensions, transcribed the whole with his own hand 
with an appropriate allowance of blottings, interlineations, 
and corrections. So plausibly was this claim put forward, 
and so pertinaciously was it adhered to, that Messrs Cadell 
and Strachan, the publishers, found it necessaiy to unde- 
ceive the public by a formal contradiction. — Chambers's Bio- 
graphical Dictionary of Eminent Scotsmen. Article, Henry 
Mackenzie. 



120 LIFE OP 

lodge any with Mr Miller. My brother Hugh, how- 
ever, who has been dead for many years, was after- 
wards boarded in Dr Grant's house, remained with 
him much longer than I did, and had much more of 
his confidence. It is possible that he might have re- 
ceived delivery of some of Logan's papers, and have 
lodged them with Mr John Miller, King's Counsel, 
Lincoln's Inn, with whom he was well acquainted, to 
whom you can apply. He is still in Lincoln's Inn." 
In compliance with this suggestion, we addressed let- 
ters to Mr Miller, and are now called to acknowledge 
our obligations to that gentleman for the very friendly 
manner in which he answered our inquiries. The fol- 
lowing extracts are all that are necessary to be given 
here : — " No. 3, Stone Buildings, Lincoln's Inn, 
January 4. 1837- Reverend Sir,— I received your 
letter of the 27th ultimo only two days ago, and wil- 
lingly give you all the information I possess on the 
points on which you desire it. Logan's papers came 
into my hands in the following manner : — The exe- 
cutor of Logan was Dr Grant. Mr Hugh Mackenzie 
became executor to Dr Grant, and I became exe- 
cutor to Mr Mackenzie on my valued friend's prema- 
ture death about fifteen or sixteen years ago. The 
MS. book to which you allude was wholly in 
Logan's, not Bruce's handwriting, and the poetry 
which it contained was partly Logan's own, and part- 
ly that of other persons. I know Logan's handwrit- 
ing well from having seen so much of it. That of 
Bruce I never saw, but there was not a scrap among 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 121 

Logan's papers which could by possibility be traced by 
him. I speak from recollection, but positively, because 
I was well aware at the time of the vexata quaestio 
respecting the authorship of the e Ode to the Cuckoo/ 
and there was nothing to be found either in the MS. 
book or the papers which in the slightest degree bore 
upon it. The point will probably never be conclusive- 
ly settled, but my own firm persuasion is, that the 
Ode is Bruce' s, though Logan may have changed some 
of the words or expressions." "March 21. 1837. — The 
whole of Logan s papers then existing came into my 
hands, where the few of them worth preserving still 
remain. My impression, from all the circumstances 
within my knowledge, is decidedly in favour of Bruce. 
The fact I mentioned of Logan having left behind him 
a book in his own handwriting, in which were con- 
tained various pieces of poetry, and among others the 
u Ode to the Cuckoo/' is no evidence in his favour at 
all. He might have copied it from anybody as well 
as been the author of it himself. It would be of no 
use to you if I could recollect the other poems Logan 
had copied. It would lead you into useless discussion.* 

* The reader has already been apprized, that among the MSS. 
which Logan received from our poet's friends, there were a 
number which he neither published in Bruce's name nor his 
own. At the time the Editor was in correspondence with Mr 
Miller he was unable to specify precisely the title or the sub- 
ject of these pieces, and he had gone to press before being able 
to do so. It was then too late to prosecute his inquiries fur- 
ther. He wished to ascertain the contents of Logan's MSS., 
in order that, by the mention of them to those who had seen or 



J 22 LIFE OF 

They were poems, as I apprehended, he had copied 
because he admired them, and wished to store them in 
his memory for improvement.'' 

87. Of those pieces published under the name of 
Michael Bruce, in addition to the " Ode to the 
Cuckoo/' Logan's biographer has claimed for him the 
episode of Levina in the poem of " Lochleven," the 
" Ode to Paoli," and the " Eclogue after the manner 
of Ossian/' thus leaving to our poet almost nothing 
which has not either a personal or a local reference, as 
if it had been necessary to give Logan the credit of 
every thing which did not bear internal evidence of 
having been written by Bruce. These, however, Lo- 
gan did not himself appropriate when he published a 
volume of poems in his own name, and the following 
reasons have been assigned by his biographer for his 
failing to do so. " Levina, though a beautiful tale, yet 
being incomplete in itself, and forming only an inci- 
dent in a larger poem, could not with propriety have 
been introduced into that volume ; and he probably 
thought the other poems which he contributed anony- 
mously to the posthumous work of another, had too 
little merit to appear in a work professedly his own. 
For this reason he might be particularly solicitous of 
excluding the Eclogue in the manner of Ossian, al- 



heard of Bruce's poems he might awaken their recollections 
whether such were not amongst the number. It is probable 
that a further investigation into this matter will lead to the 
discovery that some, if not all, the poems among Logan's 
papers are the compositions of Michael Bruce. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 123 

though there are strong reasons for ascribing it to his 
pen, notwithstanding its inferiority to his other com- 
positions. For it is undeniable that his admiration of 
the Gaelic bard gave birth to many imitations still 
more puerile than the Eclogue/'* Before advancing 
any claims in behalf of Bruce to these pieces, we beg to 
advert to internal evidence which seems to favour Lo- 
gan. The only piece in his collection bearing any re- 
semblance to the historical ballad in which Bruce is 
known to have excelled, is " A Tale/' beginning, 
u Where pastoral Tweed renowned in Song," one 
stanza of which is as follows : 

** The picture of her mother's youth 
Now sainted in the sky, 
She was the angel of his age 
And apple of his eye." 

In the episode of Levina in Bruce's Lochleven these 
lines occur, 

" The perfect picture of her mother's youth, 
His age's hope, the apple of his eye." 

These are not accidental coincidences of thought. 
They are either the production of the same mind, or 
borrowed by one writer from another.f Our firm con- 



* Life of Logan, prefixed to his Poems. Bell and Bradfute. 
1812. 

•f Several other coincidences of this kind can be traced in 
the volumes that pass under the names of Logan and Bruce, 
but it would carry us beyond the limits which we have pre- 
scribed to ourselves to give them a place in our pages. 



124 LIFE OF 

viction is, that both are the composition of Michael 
Bruce. The first draught of ce Lochleven" is now be- 
fore us, containing the germ of the episode claimed for 
Logan, and the only difference between it and the one 
in the printed edition is, that in the former Bruce makes 
his hero a giant, in the latter a hunter,* and expands 



* The reader, who is familiar with the popular poetry of 
his country, will not fail to discern the striking similarity be- 
tween the episode of Levina as altered, and published in the 
poem of w Lochleven," and Sir Walter Scott's " Lady of the 
Lake." "We mean not to say that the Baronet borrowed the 
thought from Bruce, but only that his poem is a similar fiction 
with the episode, but expanded into a regular epic. How 
striking the coincidence is, may be seen by placing some of 
the verses of each together. 

" Her, as she halted on a green hill top, 
A quiver'd hunter spy'd. Her flowing locks 
In golden ringlets, glitt'ring to the sun 
Upon her bosom play'd. Her mantle green 
Like thine, O Nature, to her rosy cheek 
Lent beauty new. The stranger's eye 
Was caught as with etherial presence. Oft 
He look'd to heaven, and oft he met her eye 
In all the silent eloquence of love." 



Bruce. 



" But scarce again his horn he wound, 
When lo ! forth starting at the sound 
From underneath an aged oak 
That slanted from the islet rock 
A damsel, guider of its way, 
A little skiff shot to the bay. 

" With head upraised, and look intent, 
And eye and ear attentive bent; 
And locks flung back, and lips apart 
Like monument of Grecian art. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 125 

the episode to a length disproportioned to the poem. 
In the original there are several verses of greater 
beauty than even in the supposed improved version. 
We shall place the opening stanzas of both in juxta- 
position. The printed version begins as follows : 

<c Low by the lake, as yet without a name, 
Fair bosom' d ? in the bottom of the vale 
Arose a cottage, green with ancient turf, 
Half hid in hoary trees, and from the north 
Fenc'd by a wood, but open to the sun. 
Here dwelt a peasant, reverend with the locks 
Of age ; yet youth was ruddy on his cheek ; 
His farm, his only care, his sole delight 
To tend his daughter, beautiful and young ; 
To watch her paths ; to fill her lap with flowr's ; 
To see her spread into the bloom of years, 
The perfect picture of her mother's youth." 

In the first draught the episode begins thus : 

Low by the lake, as yet without a name, 
There rose a little cot, thatch'd o'er with reeds, 
The walls of turf — the dwelling of a swain, 
A simple artless man, who knew no more 



A foot more light, a step more true, 
Ne'er from the heath-flow'r dash'd the dew ; 
E'en the slight harebell raised its head 
Elastic from her airy tread." 

At length, with Helen in a grove, 

He seemed to walk and speak of love." 

Scott. 



126 LIFE OF 

Than barely to support against the wants 

Of life, by sweeping up the scaly fry 

Along the shelving shore, and guide his boat 

A little voyage to the sister isles 

That smile encircled by the crystal flood, 

To search for eggs, and mend his homely fare. 

Before his cottage lay a garden stor'd 

With various kinds of roots, and herbs, and flow'rs. 

His daughter fair Levina, often there 

Tended the flow'rs — herself a sweeter flow'r. 

We have quoted enough to shew that this episode was 
not a creation of Logans imagination. If, because 
the printed version is somewhat different from the ori- 
ginal draught, it is inferred that Logan altered it, then 
it must be inferred that he altered the whole poem ; 
for it happens that there is as great a difference in the 
whole, as in this particular part. Many verses are 
omitted which are, and many verses are added which 
are not, in the first sketch. The writer has transposed 
the whole, having first taken Gaimy Bridge, as the 
spot from which to make his survey, and afterwards 
the Lomond Hill, upon the opposite side of the lake, 
as affording him more scope, and the localities are ac- 
cordingly described, as seen from this other and more 
elevated position, with such accuracy, as indicates that 
the poet, whoever he was, knew with perfect familiarity 
every rivulet and rill, every hill and knoll, every 
declivity and plain, in the whole scene. As to the 
Eclogue after the manner of Ossian, it seems Logan's 
biographer did not think it worth contending for, and 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 127 

perhaps it is not. But whether good or bad, Logan 
was not the author of it, as the following extract from 
David Pearson's letter to Dr Anderson plainly shews : 
— a When he composed the Eclogue in the manner 
of Ossian, I remember that he told us who this Ossian 
was, and that his poems were much esteemed and re- 
hearsed among the Highlanders." 

88. All the evidence which we have adduced in the 
preceding pages, together with the opinions of learned 
gentlemen, which we have quoted, appear to be over- 
turned by the following statement in Logan's Life, as 
given by Chambers, in his iC Biographical Dictionary 
of Eminent Scotsmen :" — " A painful charge rests 
against his memory, regarding the real authorship of 
some of those pieces, and also respecting the use he 
made of a copious manuscript of Bruce' s poetry in- 
trusted to him after the publication of the first vo- 
lume. * Into this controversy, which is fully stated 
in Anderson's edition of the British Poets, we deem 
it unnecessary, in the present literary reputation of 
both men, to enter ; but we can state as a fact, not 
formerly known to the biographers of Logan, that he 
asserted his innocence in a very decided manner, after 
his removal to London, by ordering an Edinburgh 
agent to take out an interdict against an edition of 
Bruce's Poems, in which several of his own pieces had 
been appropriated under the supposition of their be- 
longing to that poet." 

* Logan did not publish his own poems till fourteen years 
after he came into possession of Bruce's MSS. 



128 LIFE OF 

89. Feeling confident that Mr Chambers must have 
been either misinformed, or wrong impressed by his 
informant's statement, we addressed a letter request- 
ing him to state who was the agent employed by Lo- 
gan ? Who were the publishers interdicted ? and, 
What was the ultimate result of the interdict ? to 
which interrogatories he promptly and kindly replied, 
in several letters, from which the following are extracts: 
— ce 28 Anne Street, Edinburgh, \Qth December 1836. 
Rev. Sir, — I have this day received your letter of the 
17th instant, in answer to which I have to mention, 
that, to the best of my recollection, the statement al- 
luded to was made upon the authority of Alexander 
Young, Esq. W. S., the agent employed by Logan, 
and who yet lives. From what you mention, I am 
inclined to fear that the statement goes little way to 
prove Logan's right to the beautiful Ode to the Cuckoo, 
and only proves his anxiety to sustain his reputation. 
But I shall have much pleasure in asking Mr Young 
for particulars, which I shall lose no time in transmit- 
ting to you/' — "January 12. 1837. Rev. Sir, — I 
have received yours of the 2d instant, which, I sup- 
pose, w r ould scarcely have left your hands till you re- 
ceived a package from me, containing a series of let- 
ters from Mr Young, stating all he knew respecting 
Logan's prosecution of the Stirling publisher. Mr 
Young is, of course, an aged practitioner, since he 
transacted business in 1782. He is senior partner of 
the firm of Young, Ayton, and Rutherford, W. S., 
Edinburgh, one of the most respectable firms of the 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 129 

kind in town. His address is 48 Queen Street. I 
now see reason to think I was either misled in some 
degree by Mr Young's oral statement, upon which the 
passage in the Dictionary is grounded, or had not 
given the matter sufficient consideration. The prose- 
cution proves, as I said in my first, anxiety for repu- 
tation ; but Bruce after all may have been the writer 
of the poems, though Logan, no doubt, would be pretty 
sure that no evidence to that effect was likely to be 
brought up in judgment against him. If Logan really 
was not the author, he must have felt himself obliged 
to brazen out the lie at all hazards. Frail as his cha- 
racter was, can we reasonably suppose that he would act 
in so profligate a manner ? I should almost think not, 
and it must have been upon some such conclusion, 
that I brought forward the notice of the prosecution 
in support of his claims. You will, of course, judge of 
these matters as you think proper, and use your own 
discretion in making up this part of your narrative 
from the materials of all sorts now in your possession. 
I entertain the most friendly good wishes for your 
edition of Bruce, and will be very glad indeed if it be 
in my power to do any thing for the work. The Life 
of Bruce is one of the most beautiful and touching 
chapters in our literary history. If I can be of any 
use in the business of correcting the press, I shall 
be very happy to liave sheets sent me.* The follow- 

* For this very generous offer on the part of Mr Chambers 
• the Editor knows not well how to express his obligations; for. 



130 LIFE OF 

ing note is prefixed to the Ode to the Cuckoo, in 
the ' Poetic Wreath/ consisting of select passages 
from the works of the English poets from Chaucer 
to Wordsworth, London : Chapman and Hall, Strand, 
1836. 'This beautiful ode first appeared in the 
Posthumous Poems of Michael Bruce, Edinburgh, 1770. 
It was, however, subsequently claimed by the editor 
of the volume, the Rev. John Logan, among whose 
poems it was afterwards printed. It is here unhesi- 
tatingly assigned to the author under whose name 
it was first given to the public on the following 
grounds : — First, No one of Logan's unquestioned 
pieces makes the slightest approach to it in beautiful 
simplicity. Second, Were such literary frauds to be 
tolerated, and editors of posthumous poems allowed to 
claim and possess without title the best pieces in such 
volumes, thus taking the benefit of their own laches, 
no posthumous work would appear without suspicion of 
being interpolated, and no author's fame, resting on 
such w r orks, would be safe/ " * 



although the offer was not accepted, his obligations are still 
the same. Indeed, the whole of Mr Chambers's conduct in 
this investigation has been of the most gentlemanly kind; 
for notwithstanding that investigation has led to a refutation 
of his own statement, he is willing, for the sake of truth, that 
his statement be shewn to be inaccurate. 

* This sheet was submitted to Mr Chambers when passing 
through the press, and we deem it proper to insert here the 
note by which it was accompanied when returned :— " I lose 
no time to return your sheets, on which I have only made two 
or three marks of little consequence your whole treatment of 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 131 

91. The series of letters referred to in Mr Cham- 
bers^ second communication, contained answers by Mr 
Young to questions put by Mr Chambers on the matter 
under discussion. These were more fully stated in a 
correspondence opened up between the Editor and Mr 
Young, in consequence of Mr Chambers's reference. 
The substance of them will be found in the following ex- 
tracts, which, with Mr Young's cordial permission, we 
are permitted to give :* — u The Bill-Chamber is one 
of the offices of the Court of Session, in which the Or- 
dinary Judges sit by rotation ; and, when steps are 
taken to investigate objections by a debtor to claims 



the case, as far as I am concerned, appearing quite satisfac- 
tory, or only too much so perhaps. At page 83, however, you 
hurt my conscientiousness unwittingly by speaking with praise 
of a passage in the article Bruce in the Dictionary as my own. 
If it be not yet out of time I would wish it to be implied that 
the passage is only from that work, for it is not of my own 
writing. The article was written by my excellent friend and 
schoolfellow, Mr Robert Hogg, of Peebles-shire, a man who 
resembled Bruce not a little in his poetical talents and turn 
of mind, and also in his fate, for he died at the beginning of 
1834 at an early age : 

— multis flebilis, 

Nullo flebilior quam mihi. 
One of the most amiable human beings, certainly he was, I 
ever knew, and possessed of very considerable poetical talent, 
though his modesty was too great to allow him to do either it 
or himself justice. The article Blacklock in the Dictionary 
was also by him. " 

* The Editor takes this opportunity of thanking Mr Young 
for the great trouble he took in writing so frequently and so 
fully upon this point, and for the kind reception he gave the 
Editor when waiting upon him at his own house. 



132 LIFE OF 

made upon him by a creditor, an application is made 
to the Court through the Bill-Chamber by what is 
termed a Bill of Suspension ; and, when his object is 
to remove an action against him in an inferior court, 
lie applies by what is called a Bill of Advocation. In 
the same manner, Interdicts and Sists of all kinds ori- 
ginate in the Bill-Chamber, where, if passed by the 
Lord Ordinary, they bring the question before the 
Court in pleadings of counsel and other steps of pro- 
cess ; if refused, the matter is set at rest. In July 
1782, I applied for an interdict, at Mr Logan's in- 
stance, against the publishers of Bruce' s poems, and 
obtained what is called a sist, which was followed 
with answers for the printers, and other pleadings then 
called replies and duplies. I have laid my hand on 
my earliest letter-book, and beg to quote from it two 
letters on the subject. The one is from me to Mr Pat- 
rick Robb, messenger at Stirling, dated 26th July 
1782, in which I say to him, ' I send you notarial 
copy of a Bill of Suspension and Interdict at the Rev. 
John Logan's instance against John Robertson, printer 
here, and William Anderson, bookseller in Stirling, 
which you will immediately intimate to Mr Anderson, 
either himself, or by leaving a copy within his house, 
and send me an execution to that purpose/ The other 
is from me to Mr Logan, of the same date : ' I am 
assured by C. Elliot and P. Anderson, booksellers, Par- 
liament Close, that they will not sell a copy of Bruce's 
Poems till the interdict is removed. Any further pro- 
hibition will therefore be unnecessary ; but, if they do 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 1SS 

not keep their promise, the remedy is easy. If Robert- 
son does not desist you may raise an action of 
damages against him, or give in a complaint to the 
Court/" 

92. The circumstances which led Mr Logan to ap- 
ply for an interdict in this case were these : Mr, after- 
wards Provost Anderson, bookseller in Stirling, had 
resolved upon publishing a new edition of Bruce' s 
Poems, purposing, of course, to reprint all the pieces 
which had previously appeared under the name of our 
poet ; and, with this view, employed Mr John Robert- 
son, who had printed the first edition of the book, to 
print also the second. Mr Logan was apprised of the 
intention of the parties, by Mr Robertson waiting upon 
him to request a copy of Bruce' s poems, from which 
to print the second edition ; but the impression was 
thrown off, and in course of being issued to the public, 
before Mr Logan proceeded to take steps to prevent its 
publication. This he did, by engaging Alexander 
Youngs Esq., W. S., to apply to the Bill-Chamber for 
an interdict, and to act as his agent in the further pro- 
secution of the case. Messrs Anderson and Robertson 
resolved to defend, and accordingly employed James 
Walker, Esq., as their agent. The whole pleadings 
in the case are now before us, having obtained them 
by ordering a search in the Register House ; together 
with the decision of the Lord Ordinary, extracted from 
the mir.ute-book of the Bill-Chamber.* We shall 

* The editor feels great pleasure in acknowledging his obli- 



1-34 LIFE OF 

give the substance of the whole in the form of narra- 
tive, as the mode of stating the case with the greatest 
brevity. 

93. The reasons assigned by Logan, or perhaps, 
lawyers would say, put forth for him by his agent, but 
which Mr Young affirms he advanced only as he 
was instructed,* were, that, in 1770, he employed 
Mr John Robertson to print a volume of poems un- 
der the name of Michael Bruce, an early acquaint- 
ance of his, who had left his works to his charge, 
with additions by himself, and another gentleman ; 
that these poems were not intended for the public, 
never advertised for sale, never put into the hands of 
a bookseller, and never sold, but only distributed by 
him among his friends and acquaintances ; that the 
copyright of the book was his, which, by the act of 
Queen Anne, he had power to retain for fourteen years, 



gations to A. C. Dick, Esq., advocate, and James Peddie, 
Esq., W. S., and particularly to the latter gentleman, for the 
great trouble they took in procuring him these papers, and 
other documents he found it necessary to consult in the 
course of his investigation. 

* Mr Young offered Mr Robert Chambers Logan's letters 
at the time he was preparing his Biographical Dictionary, 
but Mr C. was too far advanced in the life of Logan to be 
able to avail himself of any part of their contents, and there- 
fore contented himself with merely stating the fact of an in- 
terdict being obtained, assuming, in all probability, that Mr 
Logan would never have taken this step unless he could make 
out his claims. Mr Young afterwards destroyed the letters, 
but, from this recent perusal of them, has a distinct lecollec- 
tion of their contents. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 135 

and that period was not yet expired ; that the book, 
as required, was entered in Stationers' Hall, and that 
therefore the copyright was his exclusive property ; 
that he was not willing to grant permission to any 
party to reprint the book in question ; and that there- 
fore Messrs Robertson and Anderson should be ordered 
by the Court to desist from the prosecution of their 
design.* On these grounds, a sist was granted by Mr 
Veitch, Lord Eliack, 25th July 1782. 

94. In the answers by the respondent, it was ad- 
mitted that the whole impression of the first edition 
consisted only of 250 copies, and the expense of print- 
ing amounted only to nine pounds ; but it was con- 
tended that three shillings, the price charged, was ex- 
travagantly high for so small a book ; and the reason 
given for charging this enormous price was, that the 
profits were to go wholly to Bruee's parents, who were 
said to be in indigent circumstances ; that the book 
was not entered in Stationers' Hall ; that, so far from 
the printer supposing that Mr Logan had any interest 
in the copyright, he applied to him for a copy from 
which to print the new edition ; that Mr Anderson 
had made offer to give up the impression which he had 
caused to be thrown off, if Mr Logan would indemnify 
the expense, which he rejected ; that Mr Logan was 
not the heir-at-law to Michael Bruce, and had pro- 
duced no legal right to the MSS., and, consequently, 
none to the copyright ; that copies of the book were sold, 

* Bill of Suspension and Interdict. 



136 LIFE OF 

in the usual manner, at the high price already men- 
tioned ; that he understood that Bruce was the author 
of the whole, or, at least, the greatest part of the 
poems ; and that Mr Logan had never condescended 
to say which were his, or prove any right to the book 
from authorship, and had not shewn that he had 
acquired any right thereto, either from Mr Bruce or 
his heirs.* 

95. In the replies to these answers, several of the 
former positions were reiterated ; and, in addition, it 
was argued that the preface to the first edition clearly 
shewed that the hook was not printed for publication 
to the world, but for a small circle of the author's par- 
ticular acquaintances ; that Mr Logan was entrusted 
by Michael Bruce, previous to his death, with these 
very poems ; that as proprietor, and indeed, in a great 
measure, the author of the collection of the poems in 
question, he had in view, some months before, to pub- 
lish for sale an elegant edition of that work, and en- 
tered into a transaction with Mr Creech, bookseller^ 
and Mr Robertson, by which he agreed to give the 
one the benefit of printing, and the other the advan- 
tage of selling the poems ; that Mr Robertson, instead 
of adhering to the bargain, had entered into a contract 
with one Anderson, a bookseller in Stirling, to print a 
mean edition of these poems ; and that, in order to 
bring the matter to a point, the suspender -was willing 



* Answers for John Robertson to the Bill of Suspension 
for the Rev. John Logan. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 13? 

to enter into a submission with Anderson and Robert- 
son relative to this matter.* 

96. (i The respondent" (we quote the precise words 
of the duplies) " is not a little astonished that the 
suspender should gravely aver that the poems in ques- 
tion were neither published nor sold, but were, in every 
respect, in the same situation as an unpublished 
manuscript ; and that he should also say, that he is 
the author of most of the poems. He surely cannot 
condescend on one instance, where so many copies of 
a book were ever printed, except with a view to pub- 
lication. Besides, the preface of the book affords con- 
vincing evidence that they were intended for the pub- 
lic. After mentioning that Mr Bruce had composed 
them during the vacation of the college, and that the 
sentiments were interesting and pathetic, the writer 
of the preface observes, that, ' if these and many other 
beauties of nature and art are allowed to constitute 
true poetic merit, the following poems will stand the 
judgment of men of taste ;' and he concludes with 
mentioning, that he publishes the poems, not with soli- 
citude and anxiety, but with the pleasurable reflection, 
that he is furnishing out a classical entertainment to 
every reader of refined taste. The respondent does not 
certainly know who wrote this preface. Probably the 
reverend suspender was the author of it. But who- 
ever he was, your Lordship has here clear evidence. 



* Replies for the Rev. Mr Logan to the Answers for John 
Robertson, 1782. 



138 LIFE OF 

under the editor's own hand, that the book was pub- 
lished, and that it was meant for the use and enter- 
tainment of every reader of taste. The book was sold ; 
and, if your Lordship shall think it material to have 
this fact proved, the respondent will instantly under- 
take to prove the same in the clearest manner. All 
the material facts on which the interdict was obtained 
are either disproved, or admitted not to be true. The 
preface proves that the book was published ; and it is 
not now alleged that the same was entered in Sta- 
tioners' Hall. No right has been produced from the 
author of the poems ; and, so far was the suspender 
from alleging that he had the property thereof, that a 
letter is herewith produced under his ovdyi hand, acknow- 
ledging that they are the property of tico gentlemen in 
London. The edition of the poems printed by Mi- 
Anderson is thrown off on the finest writing-paper, 
and is in every respect superior to that printed for Mr 
Logan in 1770, though sold nearly one-half cheaper. 
The respondent never heard of the new edition pro- 
posed by Mr Logan till Mr Anderson's edition was 
well advanced ; and he does not suppose the suspender 
had any other view in advertising this edition than to 
knock Mr Andersons on the head* The respondent 
has no concern in Anderson's edition, except that he 
was employed to print the book, but still has an inte- 



* It appears that Logan advertised a new and elegant 
edition of Bruce's works to be published by Mr Creech, but 
it was never heard of, save from the advertisement. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 139 

rest to have the interdict removed, in order that he 
may fulfil his engagement to his employer ; and it 
could serve no purpose, except to create expense and 
delay, to try the question over again in the name of 
Mr Anderson." 

97- The reader may perhaps regard it as a circum- 
stance in favour of Mr Logan, that he ordered only 
250 copies of Bruce' s poems to be printed. But he 
ought to bear in mind, that it was a number too large 
to be likely to be given in presents, especially by one vrho 
was not himself in affluent circumstances ; that it was 
a sufficient number for an experiment as to whether 
or not the book was likely to take with the public, 
which, if it did, after deducting expenses, allowing 
for bookseller's profits, and leaving the editor a goodly 
number to give away, would still have secured ticenty 
pounds to the parents of the poet. This sum, con- 
sidering their poverty, would have been to them a 
little fortune ; and more particularly so if, with the 
money, they had continued also to possess the copy- 
right of the book. But it appears, from his own shew- 
ing, that Logan designed to print an elegant second 
edition for his own benefit, and that he continued to 
entertain this design at a time when the widowed 
mother of Bruce was in a state bordering upon starva- 
tion, and he in the receipt of a handsome permanent 
income ; and it may therefore be inferred that, in or- 
der to make the benefit as great as possible, he took 
care that the number of copies in the first edition 
should be very small. We have given the statements 



1 40 LIFE OF 

advanced on both sides, and now leave the reader to 
account for Logan's prevarications, and reconcile his 
averments, as best he can, with the facts which we 
have stated in the narrative. It is not our design to 
act the part of a special pleader, and we therefore ab- 
stain from expatiating, as we might, on many things 
suggested by this affair, as it now presents itself. We 
choose simply to adduce evidence, and, on the ground 
of that evidence, we leave the public to give their 
verdict. 

9$. Before passing from this subject, we shall give 
a few extracts from the correspondence of Logan's law- 
agent with Mr Robert Chambers and the Editor, to 
which reference has been previously made. The state- 
ments occur in different letters from Mr Young, al- 
though put together in this paragraph. " I knew Mr 
Logan when I attended college, having been intro- 
duced to him by my brother-in-law Dr Thomas Hardy, 
afterwards one of the ministers of Edinburgh, and a 
professor in the University. I cannot say that I was 
well acquainted with him, but, after reading his Ser- 
mons and other works, I entertain a respect for his 
memory, which, I must say, would be diminished if 
it was made to appear that he borrowed Bruce's Ode 
as an introduction to his own poems. I cannot take 
it upon me to affirm that I ever heard my friend Dr 
Hardy, or Dr Robertson, assert that Logan was the 
author of the c Ode to the Cuckoo/ He certainly ne- 
ver said to me that he was. When Mr Chambers first 
spoke to me on the subject, I looked out two or three 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 141 

letters from Mr Logan relating to the interdict, which 
have since fallen aside, but they contained no such 
statement. My present impression and belief, I own, 
is not favourable to Mr Logan's claims, whether made 
by himself, or by others in his name. I must say, 
that it appears to me unaccountable why, after the 
interdict was applied for and obtained, he never 
brought it under discussion in the Court of Session. 
Mr Logan, I believe, went to London not long after;* 
and I never heard more from him on the subject. I 
see, from my letter-book, that I sent him my account 
for obtaining the suspension or interdict, with an abate- 
ment of my professional fees ; but it was not paid till 
after his death, by Dr Robertson of Dalmeny, as his 
executor. I beg leave to return the book you sent me, 
and must say, that a perusal of some of the MSS. in 
it has made a strong impression upon my mind in fa- 
vour of Bruce, particularly the letter from David Pear- 
son to Dr Anderson. In short, I have a great curio-* 
sity to see what you can say on the subject, and beg 
you will make no scruple to employ me further if 
necessary." 

99- The following is the decision given by the Lord 
Ordinary in the case, as extracted from the minute- 
book of the Bill-Chamber : — " 21st August 1 782. In 
respect no title from the author is produced, and that, 
from the preface and number of copies, it appears that 



* The interdict was removed in August 1782. Mr Logan 
did not leave Leith for London till October 1786. 



142 LIFE OF 

the book in question was printed for publication in the 
year 1770, and there being no evidence of its being 
entered at Stationers' Hall, therefore refuses the 
bill, and recalls the interdict, but finds no expenses 
due." (Signed) " Thomas Miller, Lord Justice- 
Clerk." 

100. From the popularity which Logan's Sermons 
have obtained, and the favour with which his Lectures 
on History were received when read by him in Edin- 
burgh, it has been very generally inferred that he was a 
much more talented man than Bruce, and that therefore 
he is much more likely to have been the author of the 
poems in dispute. " It appears, however," (we quote 
from one of his biographers,) Ci he did not scruple to 
borrow occasionally from others. Besides the passages 
in the fourth and eleventh sermons of the first part, 
which Dr Anderson mentions as borrowed from Dr 
Seed, there is another in the sermon on Retirement, 
taken verbatim from Dr Blair's discourse on that sub- 
ject ; and there is a beautiful passage in the Evening 
Sermon after the Communion, taken from Bishop Sher- 
lock's discourse on the Sufferings of Christ." * To 
these instances of his free use of other men's works, we 
have to add, that a great portion of the fourth sermon 
in volume 2d is copied verbatim from Zollikofer, which 
he did not even translate from the original German, 
but slavishly transcribed from Tooke's English trans- 



* Life of Logan prefixed to the seventh edition of his Ser- 
mons, 1810. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 143 

lation of that author's works. Besides these, there 
are probably many others which we might detect, if 
we were disposed to search for them. It is true that 
" Logan s Sermons" were posthumous volumes, and 
he is not therefore responsible for their publication ; 
but surely Dr Robertson, as his executor, would select 
what he thought the best discourses from amongst 
those which had come into his hand, else he was not 
worthy of the confidence which had been reposed in 
him. 

101. As to Logan's lectures on the Philosophy of 
History, which brought him, when read to the public, 
some fame, we shall let another of his biographers 
speak. " A short while before his (Logan's) death, 
a View of Ancient History, vol. i., was published by 
Dr William Rutherford, who at that time conducted 
an academy at Uxbridge. Upon its arrival at Edin- 
burgh, the more enlightened admirers of Logan in- 
stantly recognised in it those lectures to which they 
had listened with attention and delight, and which 
had made a lasting and a pleasing impression on their 
minds, Yet Logan himself never claimed a work 
which soon obtained a high reputation and a rapid 
sale ; and, among the papers which he left, no scrap 
has been found to afford the slightest information on 
the subject. It seems therefore unfair to strip the 
living of laurels for the sake of strewing them upon the 
tomb of the dead. Dr Rutherford has since prefixed his 
name to a second volume, which is evidently executed 



144 LIFE OF 

by the hand of the same master/'* In reference to this 
affair, another biographer remarks, " It is said, I know 
not with what truth, that these lectures were depo- 
sited by Mr Logan with the gentleman above named 
as a security for a loan of money." t But it is not 
probable that Logan would have allowed his lectures 
to have been published under another name, if he 
had had the power to prevent it, he was alive, and 
could not but know of their publication, since they 
attained to such a speedy popularity, and such exten- 
sive circulation. If Logan stood in need of money, 
and the lectures were his own, he would have natu- 
rally published them himself as he would have been 
certain to realise a handsome sum for the copyright, 
seeing he had already secured to himself considerable 
fame. Or, if he ever lodged his MSS. with this gentle- 
man as a security for a loan of money, why did he 
not redeem them ; for at his death, which took place 
shortly after their publication, he bequeathed L. 600, 
besides other property, to his friends ? j 

102. With respect to his pamphlet, the only other 
of his works which has been deemed of any import- 
ance, we shall let the biographer, whom we have al- 
ready quoted, again speak. " In 1788 he was employ- 



* Life of Logan prefixed to his Poems. Bell and Bradfute, 
1812. 
f Lives of the Scottish Poets. London, T. Boys, 1822. 
J Life prefixed to the seventh edition of his Sermons. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 145 

ed to write a pamphlet entitled, ( A Review of the 
principal charges against Mr Warren Hastings/' which 
had the good fortune to give great offence to the lead- 
ers of the impeachment against that gentleman, who 
construed it into an infringement of their privileges, 
and went so far as to institute a prosecution against the 
publisher, Mr Stockdale, The jury, however, who sat 
on the cause found nothing libellous in it, and una- 
nimously acquitted the defendant. In truth party 
fury alone could have discovered in this production any 
thing worthy of so much notice ; for of all the political 
pamphlets which have made a noise in the world, Lo- 
gan's review of the charges against Mr Hastings is one 
of the least calculated to gratify the curiosity of a 
reader who is free from the angry passions in which it 
had its rise. It is certainly the weakest of all Lo- 
gan's productions."* Such are the testimonies borne 
to Logan's talents and character by those who have 
voluntarily undertaken to record his achievements and 

* Lives of the Scottish Poets. London. T. Boys. 1822. 

The following anecdote is related by Dr Bisset in his history 
of the reign of George III. " The late Mr Logan went to the 
House of Commons the day on which "Wairen Hastings was im- 
peached. At the expiration of the first hour of Mr Sheridan's 
speech he said to a friend, " All this is declamation without 
proof. 1 " When the second was finished, " this is a most won- 
derful oration." At the third, 4i Mi Hastings acted most un- 
justifiably." At the fourth, " Mr Hastings is a most atrocious 
criminal." And at the last, " Of all the monsters of iniquity, 
the most atrocious is Warren Hastings." This I was told by 
Mr Peter Stewart, proprietor of the Oracle, who was present. 
The reader will remember that 31 r Logan had previously 
written a defence of Warren Hastings. 



146 



LIFE OF 



his worth. We have brought them forward here as 
confirming in our opinion the charge which has been of- 
ten brought against him, and which it is our object to 
substantiate, — that of having appropriated as his own, 
many of the best poems of Michael Bruce, 

103. We know not what amount of pecuniary be- 
nefit Logan received from his edition of Bruce' s poems ; 
but we are aware that his connexion with this publi- 
cation, and his supposed authorship of some of the 
pieces it contained, were the means of establishing his 
reputation, and if not the chief, at least one of the prin- 
cipal, reasons why the Incorporated Trades of South 
Leith preferred him to other candidates as their minis- 
ter ; and we know them to have been the sole cause 
of certain flattering marks of attention which were 
paid him by eminent literary men of his day, and 
among others by the Right Honourable Edmund 
Burke, who was constrained out of admiration for 
{' The Ode to the Cuckoo/ 5 to search out Logan when 
upon a visit to Edinburgh, and compliment him as the 
author of the most beautiful lyric in our language.* 
Logan did not undeceive him, but the appropriation of 
the honour upon this occasion does not appear to have 
served him much, for we cannot learn that he was 
ever indebted to the statesman for any thing beyond 
the compliment. We have now done with this con- 
troversy, and after the proof we have led, cannot think 

* Campbell's Specimens of the Poets. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 147 

it possible that any reflecting mind will regard Logan 
innocent of the dishonourable conduct which we have 
laid to his charge. We have no wish that the charge 
should continue to rest against him, and shall be plea- 
sed to find him successfully vindicated, and even to see 
the evidence which we ourselves have furnished made 
to tell in his favour. 

104. It is probable that Bruce's poems did not com- 
mand much popularity at their first publication. Their 
beauties were of a kind calculated to strike only such 
minds as can appreciate delicacy of thought andbeautiful 
simplicity of language, qualities which do not commend 
themselves to the multitude. They happened, how- 
ever, to come under the observation of a gentleman 
who had a nice perception of these proper beauties, and 
who, in addition to his taste, was capable of having his 
sympathies moved by the simple story of youthful ge- 
nius and piety, dying amidst poverty and disease. 
That gentleman was Mr, afterwards Lord Craig, a title 
which he assumed upon being made one of the Judges 
of the Court of Session. In the 36th number of the 
Mirror,* published in 1779? he commended the poetry 
and gave the brief outlines of Michael Bruce' s melan- 



* "The poetry of Michael Bruce was brought into general 
notice by an essay in the Mirror, a well known periodical, be- 
gun at the suggestion, conducted by the judgment, adorned 
by the taste, and elevated to its high character, by the genius 
of the admired and revered Henry Mackenzie." — Note to a 
proposed inscription for Bruce *s monument \ by Lord Chief 
Commissioner Adam, 



148 LIFE OF 

choly story, and that so touchingly as to render it 
worthy of being reprinted with every edition of Bruce's 
works. Part of the paper has been already quoted 
in these pages as a portion of Dr Anderson's remarks 
on the " Elegy to Spring/' Passing over its introduc- 
tion, we give the remaining paragraphs. " I have been 
led into these reflections, from the perusal of a small 
volume, which happens now to lie before me, which,, 
though possessed of very considerable merit, and com- 
posed in this country, is, I believe, very little known. 
In a well written preface, the reader is told that most 
of them are the production of Michael Bruce ; that this 
Michael Bruce was born in a remote village in Kin- 
ross-shire, and descended from parents remarkable for 
nothing but the innocence and simplicity of their lives ; 
that in the 21st year of his age he was seized with a 
consumption, which put an end to his life. Nothing, 
methinks, has more the power of awakening benevo- 
lence, than the consideration of genius thus depressed 
by situation, suffered to pine in obscurity, and some- 
times, as in the case of this unfortunate young man, to 
perish, it may be, for want of those comforts and con- 
veniences which might have fostered a delicacy of 
frame or of mind ill calculated to bear the hardships 
which poverty lays upon both. For my own part, I 
never pass the place (a little hamlet, skirted with a 
circle of old ash trees, about two miles from Kinross) 
where Michael resided ; I never look on his dwelling 
(a small thatched house, distinguished from the cot- 
tages of the other inhabitants only by a sashed window 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 149 

at the end. instead of a lattice, fringed with a honey- 
suckle plant, which the poor youth had trained around 
it) ; I never find myself on that spot but I stop rny 
horse involuntarily, and looking on the window which 
the honeysuckle has now almost covered, in the dream 
of the moment I picture out a figure for the gentle 
tenant of the mansion. I wish, and my heart swells 
while I do so, that he were alive, and that I were a 
great man, to have the luxury of visiting him there, 
and of bidding him be happy. I cannot carry my 
readers thither, but that they may share some of my 
feelings, I will present them with an extract from the 
last poem, * in the little volume before me, which from 
the subject and the manner in which it is written can- 
not fail of touching the heart of every man who reads 
it." 

105. In paragraph 84 incidental mention is made 
of Mi John Hervey, merchant in Stirling, as having 
been in some way connected with Dr Baird's edition 
of Bruce' s poems. It is necessary that we now ex- 
plain that connexion. Mi Hervey was, for a great part 
of his life, an invalid — suffering from an affection of 
the chest, which he mistook for consumption, and was 
then constantly apprehensive of dying prematurely. He 
survived, however, till past the meridian of life, " He 
was a man of deep piety, and refined mind."! The 
works of our poet having fallen into his hands, he read 



* Elegy to Spring, the last in the first edition. 

■f- Letter from the Rev. John Smart, Stirling, to the Editor. 



150 LIFE OF 

the " Elegy to Spring" with an intensity of interest 
that no uninspired writer had ever before awakened in 
him. The poet had spoken every sentiment of his mind, 
and described every feeling of his soul. Piety and taste 
had their echoes within him, and they responded faith- 
fully to the voice which they heard in the " Elegy," 
From that moment he was fired with the most enthu- 
siastic admiration of the bard of Lochleven. Supposing 
that the pleasure which he himself had felt in the per- 
usal of his works would be diffused by their circula- 
tion, and finding it difficult to procure copies of the 
book, he determined upon making every endeavour to 
get another edition published. With this view he 
waited upon his minister, the Rev. John Smart, Dr 
Doig,* Rector of the borough school, Mr William Tel- 
ford, and Mr Thomas Beatson, bankers, and commu- 
nicating his intention to them, got these gentlemen in- 
terested in his project. Desirous of furnishing a more 
detailed account of the poet than the preface to the 
first edition of his works afforded, he entered into a 
correspondence with Mr John Birrell, with whom the 
reader has already been made acquainted, and by 
whom, in addition to the information he desired, he 
was told that Anne Bruce, the poet's mother, was still 



* Dr Doig is favourably known to the world as the author 
of an M Essay on the Savage State," and as contributor of se- 
veral articles to the Encyclopaedia Britannica. His name has 
been rendered still more familiar by Hector Macneil dedi- 
cating to him his volume of poems, containing the popular 
ballad of " Will and Jean, or the Waes o 1 War." 



MICHAEL BRUCEe 151 

alive, but reduced through the infirmities of age to ex- 
treme poverty. This intelligence determined him to 
visit Kinnesswood, and converse with the surviving 
parent of that genius whose melancholy fate he so deep- 
ly deplored. He found her in a condition indicating 
the greatest penury, but finding comfort from a peru- 
sal of Willison's u Afflicted Mans Companion."* He 
resolved immediately to publish an edition of her son's 
poems by subscription for her benefit, and upon return- 
ing home, set himself to prepare a prospectus and sub- 
scription papers. 

106. While Mr Hervey was thus engaged, the Rev. 
Dr Baird, on happening to pass through Kinross, step- 
ped into the shop of Mr David Birrel, bookseller, bro- 
ther to the gentleman above named, and made inqui- 
ries respecting the parentage, birth-place, and other 
circumstances in the history of Michael Bruce. Mr 
Birrel referred him for information to his brother in 
Kinnesswood, with whom accordingly he opened a cor- 
respondence. Dr Baird learning through this medium 
the destitute condition of the poet's mother, and the 
intention of Mr Hervey and his friends to publish a 
.new edition of her son's poems for her benefit, which 
he had also projected, he addressed a letter to Mr 
Birrel, from which the following is an extract : " Athol 
House, Dunkeld, 8tk February 1790. — I would like 
to correspond with the Stirling Society you mention, 
if they have any design to enter soon on a new edition. 

* Letter from the Rev. John Smart, Stirling, to the Editor. 



152 LIFE OF 

Will you, therefore, be kind enough to let me know as 
soon as convenient the names of any of the gentlemen 
who have so generously sent their donations to Mrs 
Bruce, and I will take an immediate opportunity of 
consulting with them, and of transmitting the manu- 
scripts to them if necessary. In the mean time, be so 
good as give the enclosed guinea to Mrs Bruce from 
me, and inform her also that I design to send her the 
same sum regularly every year.* I will send it (if 
you give me notice in your reply to this when it is) 
upon the birthday of poor Michael, and long may the 
old woman be able to demand from me this trifling 
testimony of my regard for the memory of her son." 

107. Upon learning Dr Baird' s intention, the gen- 
tlemen in Stirling at once gave place to him, and be- 
came active co-operators in the prosecution of his de- 
sign. In consequence of this deference, he solicited 
their approbation of the various steps he took to for- 
ward the publication, and hence Mr Hervey was able 
to state, as he did in the letter we have quoted, how Dr 
Baird came to insert the " Ode to the Cuckoo" in his 
edition of Bruce's poems.f As Mr Birrell had furnish- 
ed the MSS. to which Dr Baird refers in the above let- 
ter, he of course became interested in their publica- 



* In course of the eight years during which Anne Bruce 
survived the period when the above letter was written, Dr 
Baird occasionally doubled and trebled the sum named. 

■f The Editor addressed a letter to Dr Baird requesting 
him to give an account of the matter himself, but he received 
no reply. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 153 

tion; and as some time had elapsed, after sending 
them, without hearing anything of the book, he wrote 
to Dr B. requesting to know what had become of 
them, when the Doctor replied : " Soon after I got 
them from your brother, I was a good deal discour- 
aged, by some inquiries among the booksellers, who 
seemed to think that a new edition of Michael Bruce's 
poems could not be published without Mr Logan's con- 
sent, as he had prevented a second edition which had 
been proposed formerly.* I had, however, never to- 
tally given up my idea of promoting a new edition, 
and it was no longer ago than last week that I tran- 
scribed one of the little performances of Mr Bruce in 
my possession, and sent it to the publishers of one of 
the London newspapers, with a few remarks prefixed 
to it, in order to awaken the attention of the public to 
the merits of his poetry ; and as there is a probability 
of my being soon in London again, my view was to 
have there entered into some terms with them for the 
benefit of Mrs Bruce/' 

108. All fears of trouble from Logan, if he ever had 
any, being now removed by his death, which took 
place in 1788, Dr Baird proceeded^ to make arrange 
ments for his edition of Bruce's poems. With a view 
to give a fresh interest to the volume, he submitted the 
MSS. of the " Last Day" to Dr Blair, with a request 



* It appears that Logan had carefully concealed the result 
of his attempt to prevent Anderson and Robertson's edition 
of Bruce's poems. 



154 LIFE OF 

to write a critique upon it, as he had done upon Os- 
sian's poems. We learn the result of his application 
from a letter written by Mr Hervey to Mr Birrel, in 
which he is giving reasons for the delay of the publi- 
cation. "Stirling, 2d February 1792. — He was also 
unwilling to hurry Dr Blair, who has had the poem of 
the ' Last Day' a considerable time in his hands, and 
has written a long criticism upon it. The Doctor, it 
seems, finds fault with some passages, particularly the 
account of the e Infernal Regions/ and as Mr Baird 
does not altogether agree with him, he is to submit 
the criticism, with an introductory account of Michael 
Bruce, written by himself, to the inspection of his 
friend Mr Josiah Walker." Whether the criticism was 
submitted to Mr Walker, we have not learned, but it 
appears from a letter of Dr Baird* s to Mr Birrel, that 
he had rejected it on account of the unfavourable opi- 
nion which it expressed of the passage referred to. 
ic But still," says he, " as a fragment, I am of opinion 
it will do no discredit to the memory of Michael 
Bruce." 

IO9. Having thus declined the contribution of Dr 
Blair, Dr Baird bethought him of soliciting the aid of 
Robert Burns, and accordingly addressed to him the 
following letter : <e London, 8th February 1791* Sir, 
— I trouble you with this letter to inform you that I 
am in hopes of being able very soon to bring to press a 
new edition (long since talked of) of Michael Bruce 's 
Poems. The profits of the edition are to go to his mo- 
ther, a woman of eighty years of age, poor and help- 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 155 

less. The poems are to be published by subscription. 

and it may be possible to make out a 2s, 6d. or 3s. voir 

lume "with the assistance of a few hitherto unpublished 

verses, which I have got from the mother of the poet. 

But the design I have in view in writing to you is not 

merely to inform you of these facts ; it is to solicit the 

aid of your name and pen in behalf of this scheme. 

The reputation of Bruce is already high with every 

reader of classical taste ; and I shall be anxious against 

tarnishing his character by allowing any new poems 

to appear that may lower it. For this purpose the 

MSS. I am in possession of have been submitted to 

the revision of some whose critical talents I can trust 

to, and mean still to submit them to others. 

* *** * * * * £ 

is May I just add, that Michael Bruce is one in 
whose company, from his past appearance, you would 
not, I am convinced, blush to be found ; and as I 
would submit every line of his that should now be 
published to your own criticisms, you would be as- 
sured that nothing derogatory either to him or you 
would be admitted in that appearance he may make 
in future. You have already paid an honourable tri- 
bute to kindred genius in Ferguson. I fondly hope 
that the mother of Bruce will experience your patron- 
age. I wish to have the subscription papers circula- 
ted by the 14th of March, Bruce' s birth-day ; which, 
I understand, some friends in Scotland talk this year 
of observing. At that time it will be resolved, I 



156 



LIFE OF 



imagine, to place a humble stone over his grave. This, 
at least, I trust you will agree to do, — to furnish in a 
few couplets an inscription for it." 

Burns in Answer. 

(c Why did you, my dear Sir, write to me in such 
a hesitating style on the business of poor Bruce ? 
Don't I know, and have I not felt, the many ills that 
poetic flesh is heir to ? You shall have your choice 
of all the unpublished poems I have : and had your 
letter had my direction, so as to have reached me 
sooner (it only came to my hand this moment), I 
should directly put you out of suspense upon the sub- 
ject. I only ask that some prefatory advertisement 
in the books, as well as the subscription bills, may 
bear, that the publication is solely for the benefit of 
the mother. I would not put it in the power of igno- 
rance to surmise, or malice to insinuate, that I clubbed 
a share of the merit from mercenary motives. Nor 
need you give me credit for any remarkable generosi- 
ty in my part of the business. I have such a host of 
peccadilloes, failings, follies, and backslidings (anybody 
but myself would perhaps give them a worse appella- 
tion), that by way of some balance, however trifling, 
in the account, I am fain to do any good that occurs 
in my very limited power to a fellow-creature, just 
from the selfish purpose of clearing a little the vista 
of retrospection/'* * * * * * 

* This correspondence between Dr Baird and Robert Burns 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 157 

110. The non-appearance of Burns' s promised pieces, 
is thus accounted for, in a letter from Mr Hervey to 
Mr Birrel : — u Dr Blair and Dr Moore, (father of Sir 
John,) have opposed the insertion ofBums's pieces on 
account of their dissimilarity and other reasons. The 
name of Burns, I have observed, is a great induce- 
ment to some, and as great a hinderance to others, to 
become subscribers. I confess to you that the first 
intimation of this design surprised and alarmed me, 
but I acquiesced in it, knowing that Mr Baird in- 
tended only the success of the publication. From the 
moral tendency of Michael Bruce's poetry, I flattered 
myself that no piece would be admitted into the col- 
lection that w r ould give the least pain to a virtuous 
mind. How great was my surprise to hear that he 
wishes to insert ' Alloway Kirk/ The admirable 
strokes of genius in that poem will not atone for the 
gross indelicacies of some lines ; besides, it has been 
repeatedly in print, and the subscribers have been 
made to believe that they were to be all originals, at 
least I thought so. If this, or similar pieces should be 
inserted, 1 dread the consequences. Dr Doigand other 
worthy friends are of the same opinion. To conclude 
the volume with such poems as ' Alloway Kirk' would 
be as great a violation of propriety, the Doctor says, 
as the exhibition of a farce after a tragedy. Cowper 
is certainly the first of the Moderns, and there is a 



has already appeared in the Life of Bruce. — It is here re- 
printed from the Lives of the Scottish Poets. T. Boys, London, 
1822. 



158 LIFE OF 

greater similarity in his poetry. Had he been ap- 
plied to, I am persuaded he would have been willing 
to do the publication a service." 

111. Mr Hervey now found it necessary to apply 
to his friends for some assistance to the poet's mother, 
as there was no immediate prospect of the publication 
of this long projected edition of her son's poems. He 
accordingly addressed a letter to Mrs Keir of Rhynds, 
authoress of several novels, explaining how matters 
stood, from whom he received the following reply : — ■ 
" Sir, Your obliging letter enclosing those of Bruce, 
reached me in safety. Although many of those juve- 
nile performances are too trifling to merit the attention 
of the public, they are so truly characteristical of our 
admired young poet that they cannot fail to yield his 
friends the most sincere satisfaction. One feature of 
the amiable picture they exhibit, I contemplated with 
peculiar delight ; I mean that delicacy which origi- 
nates from a pure heart and correct taste and a regu- 
lated imagination. Even in the most careless moments 
of youthful gaiety and boundless confidence, he never 
betrays a spark of that levity which too often marks 
the productions of early years, debases the poet, and 
scandalizes the Christian, and from exuberant merri- 
ment degenerates into licentiousness. This is the 
more admirable, that his path lay not along the se- 
questered vale of life, but the thorny wilderness, 
which is commonly fruitful in such noxious weeds. 
After you left me, I began to reflect on the means 
most likely to promote your benevolent plan. The 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 159 

first that occurred was to offer you a loan of money 
to carry on the publication, but I recollected that your 
worthy coadjutor, Mr Baird, had mentioned the wil- 
lingness of one of the London booksellers to undertake 
the task. Now, as I think the best way to honour 
the dead, is to be kind to the living, and fearing lest 
at eighty the good old woman may escape to heaven 
while we are scheming her comfort on earth, I beg 
you will be so good as send her the enclosed three 
guineas, for payment of which I shall trust to you 
and the other gentlemen concerned in the publication, 
if there should bean overplus ; if not, I shall consider 
it as bread cast upon the water, which, even on the 
surface of that uncertain element, can yield a rich in- 
crease.* I will use every lawful endeavour to obtain 
subscriptions, and when I return the letterst I shall 
let you know my success. Meanwhile, I heartily 



* Mrs Bruce wished to repay the money advanced by Mrs 
Keir, out of the small sum she derived from the publication : 
but Mrs Keir intimated her desire that it might be retained 
in the following note to Mr Hervey : — " I admire the inte- 
grity of the good old woman, but it must not be allowed to 
frustrate my intention of serving her. To make her quite at 
ease, you may inform her, that Mr Andrew Bonar, banker, 
sent one guinea for her use, on perusing her son's manu- 
scripts. The other two may be kept in case of sickness, but 
I beg she may consider them as equally her own.'" 

f The letters here referred to are those which appear in 
this volume, and which Mr Hervey had handed about amongst 
such persons as he expected would become subscribers. When 
returning them to 3Ir Birrel, he wrote him thus : — " Every 
person of taste must admire the neatness and simplicity of 



160 LIFE OF 

wish the work set agoing whilst the impressions made 
by these letters are lively. If your plan is long de- 
layed you will find the business and indolence of man- 
kind a little inimical to its success/' In addition to 
the three guineas from Mrs Keir, Mr Hervey receiv- 
ed four pounds, which sums he remitted to Mr Birrel, 
almoner to Mrs Bruce. Seldom has a human heart been 
more grateful to God and the agents he employs in the 
diffusion of his bounties, than that of this old woman 
for these unexpected supplies. She was seen by an ac- 
quaintance, shortly after receiving them, going about 
the village with a basket on her arm, containing a num- 
ber of small loaves. When asked what she was about, 
she replied, " When heaven is raining so plentifully 
upon me, I may ay let twa or three draps fa' on my 
puir neighbours."* When acknowledging the receipt of 
the money, Mr Birrel wrote to Mr Hervey thus : — 
u My brother-in-law has put up a stone chimney for 
Ann, and a halland of brick, which makes her little 
cot much more cleanly and comfortable than it was. 
She insists upon having a window cut out in the 



his epistolary style, but this is not the only excellence of his 
letters. One of them, in particular, breathes a spirit of the 
most affectionate and sublime friendship. It is impossible 
to read the specimens you have procured us, without exe- 
crating the treachery of Logan, by which they were lost to 
their possessors, we may say to the world. A judicious se- 
lection of them would have been a valuable addition to his 
poems. " 

* Letter from the Rev. John Smart, Stirling, to the Editor. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. l6l 

south wall, in order that she may see Lochleven and 
Stirling, for, she says, that though she never saw 
either Mr Hervey or Mr Telford, yet she likes to see 
the airt they come frae ; and this window must be 
cut out, though it should be at her own expense." 

112. Whilst the papers were in circulation for sub- 
scribers' names to Dr Baird's edition of our poet's works, 
it was discovered that an impostor was going round 
the country, taking up names and receiving money 
for the book, under the pretended sanction of Mrs 
Bruce's authority. et We have been endeavouring/' 
says Mr Hervey, in a letter to Mr Birrell, " to find 
out the parties concerned. The sum of our informa- 
tion is, that one Dowie, a student, at or near Kinross, 
is the principal agent in taking up subscriptions ; that 
he has got four hundred ; and, against next Assembly, 
by the exertions of some clergymen and others, he ex- 
pects a thousand. We learn also that he has been 
making inquiries about the London edition — wishes to 
correspond with the conductors, and to sell them his 
subscriptions. What effrontery ! Perhaps he is 
only wrong in the head, the tool of some mercenary 
designing bookseller." Whether he acted for him- 
self, or was agent for another, he was the instrument 
of much mischief, as will be shewn presently, to an 
old, poor, and helpless widow. 

113. Whilst Dr Baird delayed his publication, Dr 
Anderson was busily employed in preparing his " Lives 
of the British Poets," and had resolved to place the 
works of Bruce among the classics of his country. An- 

L 



162 



LIFE OF 



xious to give the world as particular an account as 
possible of this interesting youth, he collected mate- 
rials from all quarters ; and, considering that he was 
a stranger to the locality in which our poet was born, 
and that he did not then visit it, and so could not know 
many of the circumstances which we have detailed as 
giving force to the evidence adduced in this volume, 
on the controverted subject of the authorship of the 
Cuckoo, and other poems, considering these things, we 
say, Dr Anderson has written a very excellent life of 
Michael Bruce. It was impossible, with his candour 
and kindness, that he could do otherwise. Some men 
may deserve more from their country for what they 
have done to its literature, but none for what they 
have done for it. There is reason to believe that 
some of the finest poems in our language, and amongst 
others, " The Pleasures of Hope/' had never come be- 
fore the public, but for his patronage and exertions. 
Our poet was now beyond the reach of his benevolence, 
but he did all for him that was in his power ; he 
faithfully recorded his history, and accurately deli- 
neated his virtues, and if Anne Bruce did not derive 
very great benefit from her son's productions, it was 
not the fault of Dr Anderson ; for he was singularly 
useful in procuring subscribers.* Bruce's life was 
inserted in the eleventh volume of the ec Lives of the 
British Poets" which was published in 1795. 

114. Whilst Dr Anderson was preparing his life of 

* Letter from Mr Hervey to Mr Birrell. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 103 

Bruce, Dr Baird addressed to him the following note : 
— " Dr Baird, with compliments to Dr Anderson, in- 
forms him that he will be able to send him a copy of 
some of Michael Bruce's MSS. poems to-morrow, if 
they can be inserted in the ' British Poets/ Dr B. 
hopes, at the same time, that Dr A. will have no ob- 
jection to let the editor of the intended volume by sub- 
scription, prefix a few paragraphs to it, taken from the 
Life of Bruce by Dr A." "With this request Dr An- 
derson did not comply, and it was hardly to have been 
expected that he would. The " Lives, of the British 
Poets" was a very expensive undertaking, exposing 
their editor to immense risk ; and the appearance of 
any portion of them in the pages of a cheap publication 
was calculated to injure their sale. Besides, Dr Baird 
had better opportunities of preparing a Life of Bruce 
than Dr Anderson, seeing he had been furnished with 
the same materials, and had often visited the locality 
where information could be obtained. Thus defeated 
in his benevolent intentions, Dr B. desisted from fur- 
ther application to his literary friends, and contenting 
himself with merely reprinting Logan's preface, and 
prefixing Lord Craig's paper, part of which we have 
quoted in these pages, he brought out his new edition 
of Bruce's Poems, six years after the subscription 
papers had been issued. He announced the circum- 
stance to Mr Birrell in the following letter : — c: Edin- 
burgh, Ylth February 1796. Sir, — I am glad to be 
able to inform you, and I beg you may inform Mrs 
Bruce, that the long-talked-of edition of Poems is 



J 64 



LIFE OF 



at last printed off. The expense of the edition will 
amount to about L. 50 sterling. We have printed 
1000 copies, so that, if there had been subscribers at 
3s. each, for the whole number, we might have had 
L. 100 for Mrs Bruce ; but, as a considerable number 
must be sold cheaper than that price to the booksel- 
lers, who in general insist on a large deduction, we will 
not be able to realize for her so great a sum, Still, 
however, I have the confident hope of being able to 
obtain for her what may make the widow's heart re- 
joice. I request you may assure her of my good wish- 
es for the health and comfort of her latter days. If 
she needs any small supply of cash at present let me 
know and I shall transmit it." 

115. It had been ascertained that there were above 
eight hundred subscribers a few months after the sub- 
scription papers had been circulated,* but when the 
books were about to be delivered, many of their names 
could not be ascertained, several of the booksellers hav- 
ing burned their lists, supposing the scheme to be aban- 
doned. Those persons who had given their names 
and their money to the impostor Dowie, would not pay 
a second time for the book. Some had changed their 
places of abode, and could not be found ; and others 
would not receive it, in consequence of the delay which 
had taken place since their subscribing for it. From 
these causes the benevolent scheme entertained by Dr 



* Thomas Graharne, Esq. of Kinross alone, subscribed 
for 36 copies, besides giving a guinea as a donation to Mrs 
Bruce. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 1 65 

Baird, and those Stirling gentlemen whom we have 
named, turned out to be little short of a complete fail- 
ure. Instead of a hundred pounds, as were expected, 
the overplus, after paying expenses, did not exceed 
seven or eight. These, however, with a few dona- 
tions, procured by Mr Harvey, and Dr Grant, minister 
of the parish, and Dr Baird' s annuity of a guinea, suf- 
ficed to procure for Ann Bruce the few necessaries of 
life which she required during the two remaining years 
of her earthly pilgrimage. By this time she was un- 
able to move much about, but her neighbours were as- 
siduous in their attentions to her. One of these had 
gone into her cottage one day to render her service, 
when she found her seated in an arm-chair with her 
head resting on its back, as if she were asleep — the 
Bible lay open on her knee, with her spectacles laid 
across it — her ringers held some snuff which she had 
been in the act of taking. Her neighbour stepped 
forward to awake her, but that was a work which was 
now only in the power of the son of man. She was 
dead. 

116. Dr Baird happening to arrive at Kinross the 
day after Mrs Bruce' s death, Mr Birrell addressed a 
letter to him, inviting him to the funeral, to which he 
received the following reply : — " 6th August 1798. Dr 
Baird was desirous to have been at Kinnesswood to- 
day, at Mrs Bruce's funeral, but finding it farther from 
Kinross than he supposed it had been, and being un- 
der the necessity of going forward with his family 
who are travelling northward, this was not in his power. 
He sends two pounds, which, as suggested by Mr Bir- 



l66 LIFE OF 

rell, will be sufficient, he presumes, for trie funeral ex- 
penses." 

117. Mrs Bruce had not been long dead, when Dr 
Drake, an English physician, published a series of Es- 
says under the title of (( Literary Hours/' Among 
these there is one written with a view of recom- 
mending the works of Michael Bruce to the lovers of 
genuine poetry in England, as Lord Craig's paper in 
the Mirror had long before commended them to readers 
of taste in Scotland. The widowed mother of the 
poet was now beyond the reach of all human kind- 
ness, and we do not know for certain that Dr Drake 
had her benefit in view, when he wrote his beautiful 
and interesting paper on the character and talents of 
her son. But if the essay was too late to contribute 
in any way to the comfort of this poor but worthy 
woman — it served at least to increase the fame of our 
poet, and every man familiar with the literature of 
Britain is now disposed to admire both the bard of 
Lochleven and his English eulogist. 

118. In 18 12, an obelisk, about eight feet in height, 
was erected over our poet's grave in Portmoak church- 
yard, bearing as an inscription merely the words " Mi- 
chael Bruce. Born March 27. 1746. Died 6th July 
1 767." A space has been left in the stone for the recep- 
tion of a brass plate, which, however, was never pro- 
vided, and on which it was proposed to inscribe the last 
verse of the " Elegy to Spring," the first line being al- 
tered from 

" There let me sleep forgotten in the clay/' 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 16? 

" There let me sleep, low mouldering in the clay, 

When death shall shut these weary, aching eyes. 
Rest in the hopes of an eternal day, 

'Till the long night is gone, and the last morn arise." 

The alteration of the first line being necessary to pre- 
vent the evident absurdity of erecting a monument, 
and inscribing upon it the departed's own wish to be 
allowed to " sleep forgotten in the clay." The erec- 
tion of this obelisk, which is not well proportioned, 
and otherwise ill executed, cost fifteen pounds, which 
were paid by Dr Baird, with the exception of three 
guineas subscribed in sums of 10s. 6d. each, by the 
following gentlemen : — The Rev. William D ailing, 
Cleish ; D. W. Arnot, Esq., Arlary ; Thomas Bruce, 
Esq. of Arnot ; John Young, Esq. of Cleish ; Dr Co- 
ventry, Professor of Agriculture, and Mr Pearson, Se- 
cretary of Excise, together with a few shillings from 
the inhabitants of the parish. Should any 'profits 
arise from the sale of this edition of Bruce 's Works, 
they will be devoted to the completion and embellish- 
ment of this monument, 

119- The following letter, which will sufficiently 
explain itself, and suggest our reason for inserting it 
here, was addressed by the Lord Chief Commissioner 
Adam to Mr Birrell:— " April 2. 1830. Dear Sir, 
— Principal Baird mentions in a letter to me, that you 
and he had formerly corresponded on the subject of 
Bruce's Poems. This leads me to mention what I 
proposed several years ago — the erecting a memorial 
to his genius and virtues at Gairny, where he taught 



168 LIFE OP 

a school. This subject was not carried into effect at 
the time I proposed, from circumstances which I shall 
be glad to explain to you. But I have never relin- 
quished the intention. I have prepared an inscription, 
and intend to give directions soon to prepare a stone 
for it. I wish to fix on the spot in the village, for 
which I should wish your assistance, as you probably 
know the house in which he taught, and as to which 
there is some doubt started ; and the stone should be 
nearest it. I could also wish to have your aid to en- 
able me to take the best course for letting the inhabi- 
tants join in a small subscription for this object, as 
more suitable and gratifying to their feelings, respect- 
ing so gifted a native of the county as Bruce, than 
making it an individual act." The sum of eight 
pounds was collected for this purpose, which was 
chiefly contributed by his Lordship's own family.* 

The following is the inscription to which his Lord- 
ship refers, which has been printed and circulated in 
the county : — 



*"I am afraid you will think that I have neglected that 
you wrote to me about Michael Bruce, but I was desirous to 
transmit to you a copy of the inscription which I have drawn 
up for the monument which is intended to be erected at 
Gairny Bridge — which I have not been able to find — when 
I do, it shall be transmitted to you. This I hope will still go 
on. But that is no reason why what is doing at Kinnesswood 
should not be assisted. I have therefore desired Mr Wil- 
liamson to send you one pound as my subscription.*' — Letter 
from the Lord Chief Commissioner Adam to the Editor, 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 1 69 

Michael Bruce, 
Bom in 1747. at Kinnesswood, 

In the County of Kinross, 

Died at the age of Twenty-one. 

In this brief space, 

Under the pressure of Indigence and Sickness, 

He displayed talents truly 

Poetical. 

For his aged Mother's and his own support 

He taught a School here. 

The village was then skirted with old ash trees 

The cottage in which he dwelt 

Was distinguished by a honeysuckle, 

"Which he had trained round its 

Sashed window. 

Certain inhabitants of his native county, 

His admirers, 

Have erected this Stone 

To mark the abode 

of 
Genius and Virtue. 

1834. 

120. In detailing the Life of Michael Bruce, we 

have been called to tell a mournful tale of genius and 
piety struggling with poverty and disease ; a circum- 
stance of no uncommon occurrence, though it is rare to 
find these struggles so told as to excite the sympathies 
of mankind, engrossed as they are by other and more 
exciting themes. 



170 LIFE OF 

" Oh ! who can tell how hard it is to climb 
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar ? 
Oh ! who can tell how many a soul sublime 
Has felt the influence of malignant star ; 
And waged with Fortune an eternal war ? 
Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, 
And Poverty's unconquerable bar, 
In life's low vale remote has pined alone, 

Then dropt into the grave unpitied and unknown." 

Southey, a master in biographical writing, has suc- 
ceeded in deeply interesting the public in the history 
of the k ill-fated Henry Kirke White. But, with a 
better subject, we must trust to the preceding simple 
enumeration of facts for securing such a result, and if 
there be in the world any compassion for suffering vir- 
tue, any indignation at the infliction of injuries upon 
worth, any admiration of eminent talent, any respect 
for genuine piety, that result must now be secured. 
The feelings of that man are not be to envied who has 
read this narrative unmoved, and he may well doubt 
his capability of virtuous thought, or noble action, who 
is not constrained by it to admiration of its subject, 
and desire of imitation. But it is the persevering 
piety of Bruce that we chiefly wish our readers to 
emulate. This is within thejreach of all ; his genius is 
bestowed on few. It was the former only that sup- 
ported him amidst penury and disease,, and without it 
he would have been a stranger to comfort. Then 

a Lament not ye, who humbly steal through life, 
That Genius visits not your lowly shed — 
For, ah ! what woes and sorrows, ever rife, 
Distract his hapless head ! 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 171 

For him awaits no balmy sleep ; 
He wakes all night, and wakes to weep, 
Or by his lonely lamp he sits 

At solemn midnight, when the peasant sleeps, 
In feverish study, and in moody fits, 
His mournful vigil keeps. 

" And, oh ! for what consumes his watchful oil ? 

For what does he thus waste life's fleeting breath? 
'Tis for neglect and penury he doth toil— 
J Tis for untimely death." 

121. But not having learned the querulousness so 
common to poets and their biographers, we do not 
complain of the neglect experienced by Michael Bruce. 
Genius cannot expect encouragement unless its exist- 
ence has been manifested — for amidst the many dis- 
coveries which science has made, it has never been able 
to discover latent ability. Bruce's talents were duly 
appreciated in the little circle in which he moved, and 
if his acquaintances did not do for him, all which they 
might have done, the neglect is to be ascribed as much 
to his own modesty in concealing his wants, as to their 
coldness in failing to supply them. Had he published 
his poems himself, as did Pollok, whose premature 
death is now also deplored, we are persuaded the pub- 
lic would, in the one case, as in the other, have made 
an effort to soothe his sorrows and prolong his days.* 



* " Every thing that medical skill and generous friendship 
could do for Pollok was done before he left Slateford. A change 
of climate was the only expedient that gave the least hope of 



172 LIFE OF 

The surest evidence of superior talent is, that it forces 
itself into notice in spite of adverse circumstances, and 
if the reader has followed us through the latter part of 
this narrative, he cannot fail, we think, to be surprised 
at the number of eminent literary men who have en- 
deavoured to spread the fame of our poet, and promote 
the welfare of his relations. 

u Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew 
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme." 

But the services which ought to be chiefly com- 
mended are those of the Very Reverend Principal 
Baird, who from pure admiration of the poet's charac- 
ter and talents generously contributed to the support 
of his aged mother, defrayed her funeral expences, and 
erected a monument to the memory of her son. We 
have heard of other benevolent deeds performed by this 
venerable Father in the Church, but we think it pro- 
bable that none of them will shed so bright a lustre 
upon his memory as his profound and practical respect 
for the genius of Michael Bruce. 



his recovery. . . . The measure of his going to Italy and 
the subscription to defray the expense of it originated with 
my cousin. One hundred and seventy pounds were collected ; 
but on going to London, a consultation, previously concerted, 
took place. The medical men declared him unable to under- 
take such a long voyage, and sent him to Southampton. He 
died a month after he left my cousin's house." — Life and 
Correspondence of the late Henry Belfrage of Falkirk^ by the 
Rev. John M'Kerrow, Bridge of Teith, and the Rev, John 
M'Farlane, Kincardine, recently published. 



MICHAEL BRUCE. 173 

122. We wish it had been in our power to say the 
same of Logan, for we would not be of those who 
have pleasure in awarding blame. In the preceding 
narrative we have related what he did,, and left our 
readers to form their own opinions of his conduct. We 
imposed a restraint upon ourselves when adverting to 
his connection with the publication of Brace's poems, 
for we felt our indignation kindled at the utter heart- 
lessness manifested in the whole affair. We believe, 
however, that he suffered more from the consciousness 
of guilt when alive, than his memory is likely to suffer 
from any thing we can say now that he is dead. He 
has acquired a little fame, but it has been at an enor- 
mous expense, and if such a price must be paid for the 
world's applause, what honourable mind would not 
exclaim with the poet, 

" Then teach me, Heav'n, to scorn the guilty bays, 
Drive from my breast that wretched lust of praise ; 
Unblemished let me live, or die unknown, 
Oh grant me honest fame, or grant me none!*' 



174 



ENCOMIUMS ON BEUCE. 

ELEGIAC VERSES ON HIS DEATH. 

Why vainly .hid the animated bust, 
Why bid the monumental pile to rise ? 

Too often genius, doom'd by fate unjust, 
Unnotic'd lives, unwept, unhonour'd dies ! 

Too oft the poet, in whose sacred breast 
With ardour glow the Muse's purest fires, 

Contemn'd by pride, by penury opprest. 
In anguish lives, and in neglect expires ! 

Too oft, alas ! in some sequestered ground, 
Silent and cold the poet's ashes sleep ; 

No pomp of funeral is seen around, 

No parasite to praise, no friend to weep ! 

Such, Bruce, the feelings in my breast that rise, 
While guided by the Muse, I wander near, 

Mark the lone spot where youthful genius lies, 
And give thy fate the tribute of a tear. 

Obscure thy birth, yet in thy early breast, 

How deep and ardent glow'd the Muse's flame ! 

How strongly in thy bosom was imprest 
The poet's genius, and the poet's fame ! 



ENCOMIUMS ON BRUCE. 175 

Such was thy fame ; but, ah ! upon thy frame 
Disease relentless urg'd its growing way, 

Fled was each joy of health, each hope of fame, 
And thou, the victim of a slow decay . 

Like some fair flower, that owes the desert birth. 
Whose buds foretel the beauty of its prime, 

But sinks unshelter'd, sinks unseen to earth, 
Chill'd by the blast, or cropt before its time ! 

Perhaps thus blasted by unfriendly doom, 

Thy genius foster' d in a milder air, 
Matur'd by age in all the pride of bloom, 

Had spread luxuriant, and had flourished fair. 

But, ah ! no more the poet now remains ; 

Cold is the breast that glow'd with sacred fire. 
Mute is the tongue that flow'd in tuneful strains, 

Check' d is the hand, and silent is the lyre ! 

For him, who now laments thy early tomb, 
Like thee inspir'd with youthful love of lays, 

Though now he mourns, he soon may share thy doom, 
May soon require the tribute which he pays. 



See Asylum of Fugitive Pieces 



176 ENCOMIUMS ON BRUCE. 

VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE MOTHER OF MICHAEL BRUCE, 
BY A LADY. 

In Life's fair-dawning, but deceitful morn, 

By awful Heaven's inscrutable decree, 
The tender scion from its parent torn, 

Left to the storm the bending branchless tree. 
Where, then, that heart which with devotion glow'd ? 

That fancy bright, by early genius fir'd ? 
Those candid virtues Heaven's own hand bestow'd ? 

Ah ! where the towering hopes by these inspir'd ? 
Blasted they lay for many a dismal year ; 

Nought sooth'd thy grief, save memory of the past : 
Now, virtue to reward and age to cheer, 

Thy bounteous Maker sends relief at last.* 
Though fourscore winters on thy blameless head, 

With want, neglect, and hardship, in their train, 
Relentless, have their baneful influence shed ; 

Yet consolation visits thee again. 
Lo ! sweet benevolence, a joy sincere, 

Shall with thy Son's reviving fame impart ; 
Again his praise shall charm thy languid ear, 

And warm with honest pride thy withering heart. 
Ev'n when in shades conceal'd, obscure of birth, 

Fame spoke his merits with no partial breath ; 
And aided now by generous kindred worth, 

His genius triumphs over Time and Death. 

* The profits which arose from the edition of 1796 were ap- 
plied solely to the support of the poet's mother, then advan- 
ced to her 87th year, and living in indigence. A private sub- 
scription was also made at the same time in her behalf. 



177 



LOCHLEVEN, 



17.9 



The Lake described in the following Poem is situated 
in the county of Kinross, about twenty-seven miles north 
of Edinburgh, and seventeen south of Perth. In magni- 
tude and grandeur it is inferior to Loch-Lomond and 
Loch Katrine, and in picturesque beauty to several of the 
Highland lakes. It is, nevertheless, a noble expanse of 
waters, of about ten miles circumference, variegated with 
several islands, and lying in the bosom of verdant hills, 
and in the midst of well-cultivated fields. Its great de- 
fect as a scene is the want of wood, being wholly with- 
out plantations except on the side towards the west. This 
defect, however, Sir James Montgomery, the proprietor, 
is in course of remedying, by putting down patches of 
trees on portions of the land gained by a partial draining 
of the lake. 

The western quarter is by much the most picturesque, 
and is accordingly the portion generally chosen by the 
artist as the proper subject for the pencil. It besides con- 
tains the Castle, from which, as once having been the 
prison of Mary Queen of Scots, the lake chiefly derives its 
celebrity. This view we have given as the frontispiece 
to this volume. It is taken from Gairny Bridge, where 
Bruce once taught a school, and from which he first de- 
signed to describe the scene ; but he afterwards made 
choice of the Lomond Hill, on the opposite side of the 
lake, which forms the back-ground of the picture. 

Lochleven is famed for its trout, the high flavour and 
the bright colour of which are said to arise chiefly from 
small red shell-fish, which abound in the lake, and con- 
stitute their food. Its chief celebrity, however, as already 
hinted, arises from its historical associations ; and this Sir 
Walter Scott, by his novel of The Abbot, has tended 



180 



greatly to increase. Some of these associations are alluded 
to in the poem, and are now more amply detailed in the 
Notes. It is to be borne in mind, that the writer of this 
poem is describing the scene as it presented itself to him 
seventy years ago, and that, although in all its essential 
elements it is still the same, yet in several of its charac- 
teristics it is considerably changed, the lake itself having 
been reduced in size, and the adjoining lands greatly im- 
proved. 

This Lake is to be distinguished from another of the 
same name situated on the western coast of Scotland, 
which is an arm of the sea, in the vicinity of the far-famed 
Glencoe, separating the county of Argyle on the south 
from Inverness-shire on the north. That this latter lake 
has sometimes been mistaken for the former, is shewn by 
MacCulloch, as quoted by Chambers : " I was much 
amused," says he, " by meeting here with an antiquary 
and virtuoso, who asked me where he should find Loch- 
leven Castle. He had been inquiring among* the High- 
landers, and was very wrathful that he could obtain no 
answer. I was a little at a loss myself at first, but soon 
guessed the nature of the blunder. He had been crazing 
himself with Whittaker and Tytler, and Robertson and 
Chalmers, like an old friend of mine, who used to sleep 
with the controversies under his pillow, and had come 
all the way from England to worship at the shrine of 
Mary, stumbling, by some obliquity of vision, on the wrong 
Lochleven " 



LOCHLEVEN* 



A POEM. 



Hail,, native land ! where, on the flowery banks 
Of Leven, Beauty ever-blooming dwells. 
A wreath of roses, dropping with the dews 
Of morning, circles her ambrosial locks 
Loose-waving o'er her shoulders : where she treads, 
Attendant on her steps, the blushing Spring 
And Summer wait, to raise the various flowers 
Beneath her footsteps ; while the cheerful birds 
Carol their joy, and hail her as she comes, 
Inspiring vernal love and vernal joy. 

Attend, Agricola !t who to the noise 
Of public life prefer'st the calmer scenes 
Of solitude, and sweet domestic bliss ; 
Joys all thine own ! Attend thy poet's strain, 
Who triumphs in thy friendship, while he paints 
The pastoral mountains, the poetic streams, 
Where raptur'd Contemplation leads thy walk, 
While silent Evening on the plain descends. 

* For the occasion of this Poem, see 51 43, Life of Bruce, 
f Mr David Arnot. See *[ 16, Life of Bruce. 



182 LOCHLEVEN. 

Between two mountains, whose o'erwhelming tops, 
In their swift course, arrest the bellying clouds* 
A pleasant valley lies. Upon the south 
A narrow opening parts the craggy hills, 
Through which the lake, that beautifies the vale, 
Pours out its ample waters. Spreading on, 
And widening by degrees, it stretches north 
To the high Ochil, from whose snowy top 
The streams that feed the lake flow thundering down. 

The twilight trembles o'er the misty hills, 
Trinkling with dews : and whilst the bird of day 
Tunes his ethereal note, and wakes the wood — 
Bright from the crimson curtains of the morn, 
The Sun, appearing in his glory, throws 
New robes of beauty over heaven and earth. 

now, while Nature smiles in all her works* 
Oft let me trace thy cowslip-cover'd banks, 
Leven ! and the landscape measure round. 
From gay Kinross, whose stately-tufted groves 
Nod o'er the lake, transported let mine eye 
Wander o'er all the various chequer'd scene 
Of wilds, and fertile fields, and glittering streams., 
To ruin d Arnot ;* or ascend the height 



* The ruins of a castle on the Lomond Hills, and which ap- 
pears to have been at one time at the eastern extremity of 
the Lochleven as Kinross is at the western. Its position in 
this respect has been altered by the reduction of the lake. 
Kinross and Arnot are mentioned by the poet to deh'ne the 
limits of the scene he intends to describe. 



LOCHLEVEN. 183 

Of rocky Lomond, * where a rivulet pure 

Bursts from the grounds and through the crumbled crags 

Tinkles amusive. From the mountain's top, 

Around me spread, I see the goodly scene. 

Inclosures green, that promise to the swain 

The future harvest ; many colour'd meads ; 

Irriguous vales, where cattle low r e ; and sheep, 

That whiten half the hills ; sweet rural farms 

Oft interspers'd, the seats of pastoral love 

And innocence ; with many a spiry dome 

Sacred to heav'n, around whose hallow'd walls 

Our fathers slumber in the narrow house. 

Gay, beauteous villas, bosom'd in the woods, 

Like constellations in the starry sky, 

Complete the scene. The vales, the vocal hills, 

The woods, the waters, and the heart of man, 

Send out a general song : 'tis beauty all 

To poet's eye, and music to his ear.t 

* The range of hills which rises behind Kinnesswood, af- 
fording the best view of the lake. Lieutenant-Colonel Mil- 
ler of Upper Urquhart, has lately attempted to shew, and 
with great plausibility, that the Lomond hills are the Mons 
Grampius of Tacitus. See Transactions of the Society of An- 
tiquaries of Scotland, Part I. vol. iv. 1830. 

f " Not content 

With every food of life to nourish man, 
By kind illusions of the wondering sense 
Thou makest all nature beauty to his eye, 
Or music to his ear." 

Aken side's Pleasures of Imagination. 
It is to be remembered that " Bruce's Poems" was a post- 
humous publication, and that, in pointing out this and other 



184 LOCHLEVEN. 

Nor is the shepherd silent on his hill. 
His flocks around ; nor school-boys, as they creep, 
Slow-pac'd, tow'rd school ; intent, with oaten pipe 
They wake by turns wild music on the way. 

Behold the man of sorrows hail the light ! 
New risen from the bed of pain ; where late, 
Toss'd to and fro upon a couch of thorns,* 
He wak'd the long dark night, and wish'd-for morn. 
Soon as he feels the quickening beam of Heav'n, 
And balmy breath of May, among the fields 
And flowers he takes his morning walk : his heart 
Beats with new life ; his eye is bright and blithe ; 
Health strews her roses o'er his cheek, renew'd 
In youth and beauty ; his unbidden tongue 
Pours native harmony, and sings to Heav'n. 

In ancient times, as ancient bards have sung, 
This was a forest. Here the mountain-oak 
Hung o'er the craggy cliff, while from its top 
The eagle mark'd his prey ; the stately ash 
Rear'd high his nervous statue, while below 
The twining alders darken'd all the scene. t 



appropriations, we are only doing what in all probability the 
poet himself would have t done had he lived to superintend 
the press. 

* " See the wretch that long has tost 
On the thorny bed of pain, 
At length repair his vigour lost, 
And breathe and walk again." 

Gray's Ode to Vicissitude. 

+ In the first draught of the poem the following lines 



LOCHLEVEN. 185 

Safe in the shade, the tenants of the wood 
Assembled, bird and beast. The turtle-dove 
Coo'd, amorous, all the live-long summer's day. 
Lover of men, the piteous redbreast plain' d, 
Sole-sitting on the bough. Blithe on the bush, 
The blackbird, sweetest of the woodland-choir, 
Warbled his liquid lay ; to shepherd-swain 
Mellifluous music, as his masters flock, 
With his fair mistress and his faithful dog, 
He tended in the vale : while leverets round, 
In sportive races, through the forest flew 
With feet of wind ; and, venturing from the rock, 
The snow-white cony sought his ev'ning meal. — 
Here, too, the poet, as inspir'd at eve 
He roam'd the dusky wood, or fabled brook, 
That piecemeal printed ruins in the rock, 
Beheld the blue-eyed sisters of the stream, 
And heard the wild note of the fairy throng 



which we think more beautiful than some that have been re- 
tained, were added to this part of the description : — 

" Beneath their covert slept the ruffian wolf 
And fox invidious, with the lesser brood 
That feed on life, or o'er the frighted wild 
Pursue the trembling prey. Here, too, unscathed 
By man, the graceful deer trip'd o'er the lawn, 
Nor heard the barking of the deep-mouth'd hound 
Nor sounding horn, nor fear'd the guileful net." 

The next twenty lines in the printed text are not in the 
original draught, and ought to have been claimed for Logan, 
since his friends have been disposed to claim all the altera- 
tions and improvements in the poem for him. 



186 . LOCHLEVEN. 

That charm'd the queen of heav'n ; as round the treel 
Time-hallow' d, hand in hand they led the dance, 
With sky-blue mantles glittering in her beam. 

Low by the lake, as yet without a name, 
Fair bosom'd in the bottom of the vale, 
Arose a cottage, green with ancient turf, 
Half hid in hoary trees, and from the north 
Fenc'd by a wood, but open to the sun. 
Here dwelt a peasant, reverend with the locks 
Of age ; yet youth was ruddy on his cheek : 
His farm his only care : his sole delight, 
To, tend his daughter, beautiful and young ; 
To watch her paths ; to fill her lap with flow'rs ; 
To see her spread into the bloom of years, 
The perfect picture of her mother's youth. 
His age's hope, the apple of his eye, 
Belov'd of Heav'n, his fair Levina grew, 
In youth and grace, the Naiad of the vale. 
Fresh as the flow'r amid the sunny show'rs 
Of May, and blither than the bird of dawn, 
But roses' bloom gave beauty to her cheek, 
Soft temper'd with a smile. The light of heav'n, 
And innocence, illum'd her virgin eye, 
Lucid and lovely as the morning star.* 
Her breast was fairer than the vernal bloom 
Of valley-lily, opening in a show'r ; — t 

* " And her eye is brighter far 

Than the beamy morning star." — Philips. 

•f- " Not fairer grows the lily of the vale, 

Whose bosom opens to the vernal gale". — Falconer. 



LOCHLEVEN. 187 

Fair as the morn, and beautiful as May, 
The glory of the year, when first she comes 
Array'd, all beauteous with the robes of heaven ; 
And, breathing summer breezes, from her locks 
Shakes genial dews, and from her lap the flow'rs.— 
Thus beautiful she look'd ; yet something more, 
And better far than beauty, in her looks 
Appear' d : the maiden blush of modesty ; 
The smile of cheerfulness, and sweet content ; 
Health's freshest rose, the sunshine of the soul ; 
Each heightening each, effus'd o'er all her form 
A nameless grace, the Beauty of the Mind. 

Thus finish'd fair above her peers, she drew 
The eyes of all the village, and inflam'd 
The rival shepherds of the neighb'ring dale, 
Who laid the spoils of Summer at her feet, 
And made the woods enamour' d of her name. 
But pure as buds before they blow, and still 
A virgin in her heart, she knew not love : 
But all alone, amid her garden fair, 
From morn to noon, from noon to dewy eve, * 
She spent her days : her pleasing task to tend 
The flow'rs ; to lave them for the water-spring ; 



-In Ausonian land 



They call him Mulciber, and how he fell 
From heaven, the fabled — thrown by angry Jove, 
Sheer o'er the crystal battlements, from mom 
To noon^from noon to dewy eve 9 a summer's day". 

Milton. 



] 88 LOCHLEVEN. 

To ope the buds with her enamoured breath ; 

Rank the gay tribes, and rear them in the sun. — 

In youth, the index of maturer years, 

Left by her school-companions at their play, 

She'd often wander in the wood, or roam 

The wilderness in quest of curious flower, 

Or nest of bird unknown, till eve approaeh'd, 

And hemm'd her in the shade. To obvious swain, 

Or woodman chanting in the greenwood glen, 

She'd bring the beauteous spoils, and ask their names, 

Thus plied assiduous her delightful task, 

Day after day, till every herb she nam'd 

That paints the robe of Spring, and knew the voice 

Of ev'ry warbler in the vernal wood. 

Her garden stretch'd along the river side, 
High up a sunny bank : on either side, 
A hedge forbade the vagrant foot ; above, 
An ancient forest screen' d the green recess. 
Transplanted here, by her creative hand, 
Each herb of Nature, full of fragrant sweets, 
That scents the breath of Summer ; ev'ry flow'r 
Pride of the plain that blooms on festal days 
In shepherd's garland, and adorns the year, 
In beauteous clusters flourish' d : Nature's work, 
And order, finish'd by the hand of Art. 
Here go wans, natives of the village green,- 
To daisies grew. The lilies of the field 
Put on the robe they neither sew'd nor spun. 
Sweet-smelling shrubs and cheerful spreading trees, 
Unfrequent scatter' d, as by Nature's hand, 



LOCHLEVEN. 189 

Shaded the flow'rs ; and to her Eden drew 
The earliest concerts of the Spring, and all 
The various music of the vocal year. 
Retreat romantic ! Thus, from early youth, 
Her life she led : one summer s day, serene 
And fair without a cloud ! like poet's dreams 
Of vernal landscapes, of Elysian vales, 
And islands of the blest ; where hand in hand^ 
Eternal Spring and Autumn rule the year 
And Love and Joy lead on immortal youtn ! 

"Twas on a summer's day., when early show'rs 
Had waked the various vegetable race 
To life and beauty, fair Levina stray'd. 
Far in the blooming wilderness she stray'd, 
To gather herbs, and the fair race of fiow'rs, 
That Nature's hand creative pours at will, 
Beauty unbounded, over Earth's green lap, 
Gay without number, in the day of rain, 
O'er valleys gay, o'er hillocks green she walk'd^. 
Sweet as the season ; and at times awak'd 
The echoes of the vale, with native notes 
Of heart -felt joy, in numbers heavenly sweet — - 
Sweet as th J hosannahs of a form of light, 
A sweet-tongued Seraph in the bowers of bliss, 

Her, as she halted on a green hilLtop, 
A quiver'd hunter spied. Her flowing locks^ 
In golden ringlets glittering to the sun, 
Upon her bosom played : her mantle green, 
Like thine, Nature ! to her rosy cheek 
Lent beauty new ; as from the verdant leaf 



190 LOCHLEVEN. 

The rose-bud blushes with a deeper bloom, 
Amid the walks of May. The stranger's eye 
Was caught as with ethereal presence. Oft 
He looked to heaven, and oft he met her eye 
In all the silent eloquence of love ; 
Then, waked from wonder, with a smile began : 
" Fair wanderer of the wood ! what heavenly power, 
Or providence, conducts thy wandering steps 
To this wild forest, from thy native seat 
And parents, happy in a child so fair ? 
A shepherdess, or virgin of the vale, 
Thy dress bespeaks ; but thy majestic mien, 
And eye bright as the morning star, confess 
Superior birth and beauty — born to rule : 
As from the stormy cloud of night, that veils 
Her virgin orb, appears the queen of heaven, 
And with full beauty gilds the face of night. 
Whom shall I call the fairest of her sex, 
And charmer of my soul ? In yonder vale, 
Come, let us crop the roses of the brook, 
And wildings of the wood : soft under shade 
Let us recline by mossy fountain-side, 
While the wood suffers in the beam of noon. 
I'll bring, my love, the choice of all the shades ; 
First fruits ; the apple ruddy from the rock ; 
And clustering nuts, that burnish in the beam. 
wilt thou bless my dwelling, and become 
The owner of these fields ? I'll give thee all 
That I possess ; and all thou seest is mine." 
Thus spoke the youth, with rapture in his eye; 



LOCHLEVEN. 1,91 

And thus the maiden, with a blush, began : 
6f Beyond the shadow of these mountains green 
Deep-bosomed in the vale, a cottage stands, 
The dwelling of my sire, a peaceful swain ; 
Yet at his frugal board Health sits a guest, 
And fair Contentment crowns his hoary hairs, 
The patriarch of the plains : ne'er by his door 
The needy passed, or the way-faring man. 
His only daughter and his only joy, 
I feed my father's flock ; and, while they rest, 
At times retiring, lose me in the wood, 
Skill'd in the virtues of each secret herb 
That opes its virgin bosom to the moon. — 
No flower amid the garden fairer grows 
Than the sweet lily of the lowly vale, 
The queen of flowers — But sooner might the weed 
That blooms and dies, the being of a day, 
Presume to match with yonder mountain-oak, 
That stands the tempest and the bolt of Heaven, 
From age to age the monarch of the wood 

! had you been a shepherd of the dale, 
To feed your flock beside me, and to rest 
With me at noon in these delightful shades, 

1 might have listened to the voice of love, 
Nothing reluctant ; might with you have walked 
Whole summer suns away. At even -tide, 
When heaven and earth in all their glory shine 
With the last smiles of the departing sun ; 

When the sweet breath of Summer feasts the sense, 
And secret pleasure thrills the heart of man; 



192 LOCHLEVEN. 

We might have walked alone,, in converse sweet, 
Along the quiet vale, and woo'd the moon 
To hear the music of true lovers' vows. 
But Fate forbids ; and Fortune's potent frown, 
And Honour, inmate of the noble breast. 
Ne'er can this hand in wedlock join with thine. 
Cease, beauteous stranger ! cease, beloved youth ! 
To vex a heart that never can be yours." 

Thus spoke the maid, deceitful : but her eyes, 
Beyond the partial purpose of her tongue, 
Persuasion gained. The deep-enamoured youth 
Stood gazing on her charms, and all his soul 
Was lost in love. He grasped her trembling hand, 
And breathed the softest, the sincerest vows 
Of love : " virgin ! fairest of the fair ! 
My one beloved ! were the Scottish throne 
To me transmitted thro' a scepter'd line 
Of ancestors, thou, thou should'st be my queen, 
And Caledonia's diadems adorn 
A fairer head than ever wore a crown !" 

She reddened like the morning, under veil 
Of her own golden hair. The woods among 
They wandered up and down with fond delay, 
Nor marked the fall of ev'ning : parted, then. 
The happiest pair on whom the sun declined. 
Next day he found her on a flowery bank, 
Half under shade of willows, by a spring, 
The mirror of the swains, that o'er the meads, 
Slow-winding, scattered flowerets in its way. 
Thro' many a winding walk and alley green, 



LOCHLEVEN. 103 

She led him to her garden. Wonder struck, 

He gazed, all eye, o'er th' enchanting scene: 

And much he praised the walks, the groves, the flowers, 

Her beautiful creation : much he praised 

The beautiful creatress ; and awaked 

The echo in her praise. Like the first pair, 

Adam and Eve, in Eden's blissful bowers, 

When newly come from their Creator's hand, 

Our lovers lived in joy. Here, day by day, 

In fond endearments, in embraces sweet, 

That lovers only know, they lived, they loved, 

And found the paradise that Adam lost. — 

Nor did the virgin, with false modest pride, 

Retard the nuptial morn : she fixed the day 

That blessed the youth, and opened to his eyes 

An age of gold, the heaven of happiness 

That lovers in their lucid moments dream. 

And now the morning, like a rosy bride 
Adorned on her day, put on her robes, 
Her beauteous robes of light : the Naiad streams, 
Sweet as the cadence of a poet's song, 
Flowed down the dale ; the voices of the grove, 
And every winged warbler of the air, 
Sung over head ; and there was joy in heaven. 
Ris'n with the dawn, the bride and bridal-maids 
Strayed thro* the woods, and o'er the vales, in quest 
Of flowers and garlands, and sweet-smelling herbs, 
To strew the bridegroom's way, and deck his bed. 

Fair in the bosom of the level lake 
Rose a green island, covered with a spring 

N 



1 94 LOCHLEVEN. 

Of flowers perpetual, goodly to the eye, 

And blooming from afar. High in the midst, 

Between two fountains, an enchanted tree 

Grew ever green, and every month renewed 

Its blooms and apples of Hesperian gold. 

Here every bride (as ancient poets sing) 

Two golden apples gathered from the bough, 

To give the bridegroom in the bed of love, 

The pledge of nuptial concord and delight 

For many a coming year. Levina now 

Had reached the isle, with an attendant maid, 

And pulled the mystic apples, pulled the fruit ; 

But wished and longed for the enchanted tree. 

Not fonder sought the first created fair 

The fruit forbidden of the mortal tree, 

The source of human woe. Two plants arose 

Fair by the mother's side, with fruits and flowers 

In miniature. One, with audacious hand, 

In evil hour she rooted from the ground. 

At once the island shook, and shrieks of woe 

At times were heard, amid the troubled air.* 

Her w^hole frame shook, the blood forsook her face, 

Her knees knocked, and her heart within her died. 

Trembling and pale, and boding woes to come, 

They seized the boat, and hurried from the isle. 

* J So saying, her rash hand, in evil hour, 

Forth reaching to the fruit, she plucked, she ate ! 
Earth felt the wound, and Nature, from her seat, 
Sighing thro' all her works, gave signs of woe 
That all was lost." — Miltox. 



LOCHLEVEX. 1$5 

And now they gained the middle of the lake. 
And saw th' approaching land : now, wild with joy, 
They rowed, they flew. When lo ! at once effused. 
Sent by the angry demon of the isle, 
A whirlwind rose : it lashed the furious lake 
To tempest, overturned the boat, and sunk 
The fair Levina to a watery tomb. 
Her sad companions, bending from a rock, 
Thrice saw her head, and supplicating hands 
Held up to Heaven, and heard the shriek of death : 
Then overhead the parting billow closed, 
And op'd no more. Her fate in mournful lays 
The Muse relates ; and sure each tender maid 
For her shall heave the sympathetic sigh. 
And haply my Eumelia * (for her soul 
Is pity's self), as, void of household cares, 
Her evening walk she bends beside the lake, 
Which yet retains her name,t shall sadly drop 
A tear, in memory of the hapless maid ; 
And mourn with me the sorrows of the youth, 
Whom from his mistress death did not divide. 
Robbed of the calm possession of his mind, 
All night he wandered by the sounding shore, 
Long looking o'er the lake ,* and saw at times 
The dear, the dreary ghost of her he loved : 
Till love and grief subdued his manly prime, 
And brought his youth with sorrow to the grave. — 
I knew an aged swain, whose hoary head 



* See IF 35, Life of Bruce. 
+ See Note (1 ) end of poem. 



196' LOCHLEVEN. 

Was bent with years, the village -chronicle, 
Who much had seen, and from the former times 
Much had received. He,, hanging o'er the hearth, 
In winter evenings, to the gaping swains,, 
And children circling round the fire, would tell 
Stories of old, and tales of other times. 
Of Lomond and Levina he would talk ; 
And how of old, in Britain's evil days, 
When brothers against brothers drew the sword 
Of civil rage, the hostile hand of war 
Ravaged the land, gave cities to the sword, 
And all the country to devouring fire. 
Then these fair forests and Elysian scenes, 
In one great conflagration, flamed to heaven. 
Barren and black, by swift degrees arose 
A moorish fen ; and hence the lab'ring hind, 
Digging for fuel, meets the mouldering trunks 
Of oaks, and branchy antlers of the deer. 

Now sober Industry, illustrious power ! 
Hath raised the peaceful cottage, calm abode 
Of innocence and joy : now, sweating, guides 
The shining ploughshare ; tames the stubborn soil : 
Leads the long drain along th' unfertile marsh : 
Bids the bleak hill with vernal verdure bloom, 
The haunt of flocks ; and clothes the barren heath 
With waving harvests, and the golden grain. 

Fair from his hand behold the village rise, 
In rural pride, 'mong intermingled trees ! 
Above whose aged tops the joyful swains, 
At even-tide descending from the hill, 
With eye enamoured, mark the many wreaths 



LOCHLEVEN. 197 

Of pillared smoke, high-curling to the clouds. 
The streets resound with Labour's various voice. 
Who whistles at his work. Gay on the green, 
Young blooming boys, and girls with golden hair. 
Trip nimble-footed, wanton in their play, 
The village hope. All in a reverend row, 
Their grey-haired grandsires, sitting in the sum 
Before the gate, and leaning on the staff, 
The well-remembered stories of their youth 
Recount, and shake their aged locks with joy. 

How fair a prospect rises to the eye, 
"Where Beauty vies in all her vernal forms, 
For ever pleasant, and for ever new ! 
Swells the exulting thought, expands the soul, 
Drowning each ruder care : a blooming train 
Of bright ideas rushes on the mind. 
Imagination rouses at the scene ; 
And backward, through the gloom of ages past. 
Beholds Arcadia, like a rural queen. 
Encircled with her swains and rosy nymphs, 
The mazy dance conducting on the green. 
Nor yield to old Arcadia's blissful vales 
Thine, gentle Leven ! Green on either hand 
Thy meadows spread, unbroken of the plough, 
Vv^ith beauty all their own. Thy fields rejoice 
With all the riches of the golden year. 
Fat on the plain, and mountain's sunny side, 
Large droves of oxen, and the fleecy flocks, 
Feed undisturb'd ; and fill the echoing air 
With music, grateful to the master's ear. 



193 LOCHLEVEN. 

The traveller stops, and gazes round and round 
O'er all the scenes, that animate his heart 
With mirth and music. Ev'n the mendicant, 
Bowbent with age, that on the old grey stone, 
Sole sitting, suns him in the public way, 
Feels his heart leap, and to himself he sings. 
How beautiful around the lake outspreads 
Its wealth of waters, the surrounding vales 
Renews, and holds a mirror to the sky, 
Perpetual fed by many sister-streams, 
Haunts of the angler ! First, the gulfy Po, 
That through the quaking marsh and waving reeds 
Creeps slow and silent on. The rapid Queech, 
Whose foaming torrents o'er the broken steep 
Burst down impetuous, with the placid wave 
Of flowery Leven, for the canine pike 
And silver eel renown'd. But chief thy stream, 
Gairny ! sweetly winding, claims the song. 
First on thy banks the Doric reed I tun'd,* 
Stretch'd on the verdant grass : while twilight meek, 
Enrob'd in mist, slow-sailing through the air, 
Silent and still, on every closed flower 
Shed drops nectareous ; and around the fields 
No noise was heard, save where the whispering reeds 
Wav'd to the breeze, or in the dusky air 
The slow-wing'd crane mov'd heavily o'er the lee, 
And shrilly clamour'd as he sought his nest. 
There would I sit, and tune some youthful lay ; 

* See f 19 and % 35, Life of Bruce. 



LOCHLEVEN. 199 

Or watch the motion of the living fires. 

That day and night their never-ceasing course 

Wheel round th* eternal poles ; and bend the knee 

To Him the Maker of yon starry sky, 

Omnipotent ! who, thron'd above all heavens, 

Yet ever present through the peopled space 

Of vast Creation s infinite extent, 

Pours life, and bliss, and beauty, pours Himself, 

His own essential goodness, o'er the minds 

Of happy beings, through ten thousand worlds. 

Nor shall the Muse forget thy friendly heart, 
Laelius !* partner of my youthful hours. 
How often, rising from the bed of peace, 
We would walk forth to meet the summer morn, 
Inhaling health and harmony of mind ; 
Philosophers and friends ; while science beam'd, 
With ray divine, as lovely on our minds 
As yonder orient sun, whose welcome light 
RevealM the venial landscape to the view. 
Yet oft, unbending from more serious thought, 
Much of the looser follies of mankind, 
Humorous and gay, we'd talk, and much would laugh ; 
While, ever and anon, their foibles vain 
Imagination offer d to our view. 

Fronting where Gairny pours his silent urn 
Into the lake, an island lifts its head,t 



* See Note (2), end of Poem. 
f See Note (3), end of Poem. 



200 L0CHLEVEN. 

Grassy and wild,, with ancient ruin heap'd 
Of cells ; where from the noisy world retir'd 
Of old, as fame reports, Religion dwelt 
Safe from the insults of the darken' d crowd 
That bow'd the knee to Odin ; and in times 
Of ignorance, when Caledonia's sons 
(Before the triple- crowned giant fell) 
Sxchang'd their simple faith for Rome's deceits, 
Here Superstition for her cloistered sons 
A dwelling rear'd, with many an arched vault : 
Where her pale votaries at the midnight hour, 
In many a mournful strain of melancholy, 
Chanted their orisons to the cold moon. 
It now resounds with the wild-skrieking gull, 
The crested lapwing, and the clamorous mew, 
The patient heron, and the bittern dull, 
Deep-sounding in the base, with all the tribe 
That by the water seek th' appointed meal. 
From hence the shepherd in the fenced fold, 

Tis said, has heard strange sounds, and music wild ; 

Such as in Selma,* by the burning oak, 

Of hero fallen, or of battle lost, 

IVarn'd Fingal's mighty son, from trembling chords 



* " Selma," according to the expositors of Ossian, was the 
capital of Morven ; and Morven, or Mor Bean, signifies the 
hill country or highlands. " I beheld thy towers, O Selma, 
the oaks of thy shaded wall."— See Ossian's Poems, The War 
of Inis-thona. 



LOCHLEVEN. 201 

Of untouched harp, self-sounding in the night ; 

Perhaps, th' afflicted genius of the lake, 

That leaves the wat'ry grot each night, to mourn 

The waste of time, his desolated isles. 

And temples in the dust : his plaintive voice 

Is heard resounding through the dreary courts 

Of high Lochleven Castle,* famous once, 

Th* abode of heroes of the Brace's line. 

Gothic the pile, and high the solid walls, 

With warlike ramparts, and the strong defence 

Of jutting battlements : an age's toil ! 

No more its arches echo to the noise 

Of joy and festive mirth. No more the glance 

Of blazing taper through its windows beams, 

And quivers on the undulating wave : 

But naked stand the melancholy walls, 

Lash'd by the wintry tempests, cold and bleak, 

That whistle mournful through the empty halls. 

And piecemeal crumble down the towers to dust. 

Perhaps in some lone, dreary, desert tow'r, 

That time has spar'd, forth from the window looks, 

Half hid in grass, the solitary fox :f 



-* See Note (4), end of Poem. 

*r " I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were deso- 
late. The fire had resounded in the halls, and the voice of 
the people is heard no more. The stream of Clutha was re- 
moved from its place by the fall of the walls. The thistle 
shook there its lonely head. The moss whistled to the wind. 
The fox looked out of the windows; the rank grass of the 



202 LOCHLEVEN. 

While from above, the owl, musician dire ! 

Screams hideous, harsh, and grating to the ear. 
Equal in age, and sharers of its fate, 

A row of moss-grown trees around it stand. 

Scarce here and there, upon their blasted tops, 

A shrivell'd leaf distinguishes the year : 

Emblem of hoary age, the eve of life, 

When man draws nigh his everlasting home, 

Within a step of the devouring grave ; 

When all his views and towering hopes are gone. 

And ev'ry appetite, before him, dead. 

Bright shines the morn, while in the ruddy east 

The sun hangs hovering o'er th' Atlantic wave. 

Apart on yonder green hilFs sunny side, 

Serend with all the music of the mom, 
Attentive let me sit : while from the rock, 
The swains, laborious, roll the limestone huge, 
Bounding elastic from th* indented grass ; 
At every fall it springs, and thundering shoots 

O'er rocks and precipices to the plain. 

And let the shepherd careful tend his flock 
Far from the dangerous steep ; nor, ye swains ! 
Stray heedless of its rage. Behold the tears 
Yon wretched widow o'er the mangled corpse 
Of her dead husband pours : who, hapless man ! 
Cheerful and strong, went forth at rising morn 



wall waved round its head. Desolate is the dwelling of 
Moina ; silence is in the house of her fathers."— Ossian's 
Poems, Carthon. 



LOCHLEVEN. 203 

To usual toil ; but, ere the evening hour, 
His sad companions bear him lifeless home. 
Urged from the hill's high top, with progress swift, 
A weighty stone, resistless, rapid came ; 
Seen by the fated wretch, who stood unmov'd, 
Nor turn'd to fly, till flight had been in vain ; 
When now arriv'd the instrument of death, 
And fell 5 d him to the ground. The thirsty land 
Drank up his blood : such was the will of Heav'n I 

How wide the landscape opens to the view ! 
Still as I mount the lessening hills decline, 
Till high above them northern Grampius lifts 
His hoary head, bending beneath a load 
Of everlasting snow. O'er southern fields 
I see the Cheviot hills, the ancient bounds 
Of two contending kingdoms. There in fight 
Brave Percy and the gallant Douglas bled ; 
The house of heroes, and the death of hosts ! 
Watering the fertile fields, majestic Forth, 
Full, deep, and wide, rolls placid to the sea, 
With many a vessel trim and oared bark, 
In rich profusion cover d, wafting o'er 
The wealth and produce of far-distant lands. 

But chief mine eye on the subjected vale 
Of Leven pleased looks down ; while o'er the trees^ 
That shield the hamlet with the shade of years, 
The towering smoke of early fire ascends, 
And the shrill cock proclaims the advanced morn. 

How blest the man ! who, in these peaceful plains. 
Ploughs his paternal field ; far from the noise. 



204 LOCHLEVEN. 

The care, and bustle of a busy world ! * 
All in the sacred, sweet, sequester'd vale, 
Of solitude, the secret primrose-path 
Of rural life, he dwells ; and with him dwells 
Peace and Content, twins of the sylvan shade, 

And all the Graces of the golden age. 

Such is Agricola, the wise, the good ; 

By nature formed for the calm retreat, 

The silent path of life. Learn' d, but not fraught 

With self-importance, as the starched fool, 

Who challenges respect by solemn face, 

By studied accent, and high-sounding phrase. 

Enamour'd of the shade, but not morose. 

Politeness, rais'd in courts by frigid rules, 

With him spontaneous gi;ows. Not books alone, 

But man his study, and the better part ; 

To tread the ways of virtue, and to act. 

The various scenes of life with God's applause. 

Deep in the bottom of the flowery vale, 

With blooming sallows and the leafy twine 



* " Beatus ille, qui procul negotiis, 
Ut prisca gens mortalium, 
Paterna rura bobus exercet suis 
Solutus omni foenore.'" 

Horace, Epon. ii. Ode 2. 

4t Like the first mortals, blest is he, 

From debts, and mortgages, and business free ; 
With his own team who ploughs the soil, 
Which grateful once, confest his father's toil." 

Francis'' Translation. 



LOCHLEVEN. 205 

Of verdant alders fenc'd, his dwelling stands 
Complete in rural elegance. The door, 
By which the poor or pilgrim never pass'd, 
Still open, speaks the master's bounteous heart. 
There, how sweet ! amid the fragrant shrubs. 
At evening cool to sit ; while, on their boughs, 
The nested songsters twitter o'er their young ; 
And the hoarse low of folded cattle breaks 
The silence, wafted o'er the sleeping lake. 
Whose waters glow beneath the purple tinge 
Of western cloud ; while converse sweet deceive? 
The stealing foot of time ! Or where the ground,. 
Mounded irregular, points out the graves 
Of our forefathers, and the hallow'd fane, 
Where swains assembling worship, let us walk. 
In softly-soothing melancholy thought, 
As Night's seraphic bard, immortal Young, 
Or sweet-complaining Gray ; there see the goal 
Of human life, where drooping, faint, and tir'd, 

Oft miss'd the prize, the weary racer rests. 

Thus sung the youth, amid unfertile wilds 
And nameless deserts, unpoetic ground ! 
Far from his friends he stray'd, recording thus 
The dear remembrance of his native fields, 
To cheer the tedious night ; while slow disease 
Prey'd on his pining vitals, and the blasts 
Of dark December shook his humble cot.* 



* See «[ 42, Life of Bruce. 



206 



NOTES. 



Note (1), page 195. 

— — " Beside the lake 



Which yet retains her name" 

The poet here insinuates, that Lochleven is an abbrevia- 
tion of Lochlevina, which is about as probable as another 
derivation given by some of the inhabitants around the 
lake, that Lochleven is an abbreviation of Locheleven ; 
and they account for this appellation by affirming, that it 
was once fed by eleven streams, surrounded by eleven 
proprietors' lands, was eleven miles in circumference, was 
studded by eleven islands, seen from eleven parishes, in- 
habited by eleven kinds of fish, and so forth, to the num- 
ber of eleven elevens, not one of which peculiarities, so 
far as we can learn, ever belonged to it. It is, however, 
n striking circumstance, that the only two hills in Scot- 
land named Lomond, should each have a lake at its base 
called Leven, for so Loch-Lomond was anciently called, 
as the stream by which it empties itself into the Clyde is 
still named, and by which name it has been celebrated by 
Smollet, in the famous Ode beginning — 

" On Leven's banks, while free to rove, 
And tune the rural pipe to love. " 

The word Leven is held to be of Saxon origin, and by 
some it is understood to mean clear, by others smooth. 
The former interpretation seems the more probable, from 



NOTES. 207 

the fact, that this property is a characteristic of all the 
waters to which the name is applied ; of which in Britain, 
besides those already named, there is the river Leven in 
Westmoreland, the stream by which the lake Winder- 
mere empties itself into the sea ; and there are also the 
" Black" and " White" Leven, two streams in Cum- 
berland. 

Note (2), page 199. 

" JVor shall the Muse forget thy friendly heart, 
Lcelius /" 

In the first draught of the poem the following verses 
preceded those in the text : — 

« And ft would join 

My walk the good Philologus, whose mind, 
Superior to the w^orld, with scorn looks down 
And pity, on the low pursuits of men ; 
And, far above the mists which little pride 
And erring passions raise, his piercing eye 
Roves through the spacious intellectual world." 

By Philologus and Lselius our poet is known to intend 
his early friend Mr George Henderson, son of the pro- 
prietor of Turfhills, afterwards assistant to the Rev. 
James Fisher, of the Secession Church, Glasgow. This 
gentleman was suddenly cut off in the midst of his use- 
fulness. He preached in his usual health on Sabbath, and 
died on the Thursday following, in the thirty-sixth year 
of his age, and fourteenth of his ministry. His widow r 
survived till within the last few months. 

The name Philologus was changed into that of Leelius, 
as expressive of the friendship that subsisted between 
Bruce and Henderson, in allusion to the intimacy between 
Lselius the Roman consul and Africanus the younger, an 



208 NOTES. 

intimacy so great, that Cicero, in his treatise De Amictita, \ 
adduces it in illustration of the real nature of friendship, 
with its attendant pleasures. 

Note (3), page 199. 

" Fronting ichere Gairny pours his silent urn 
Into the lake, an island lifts its head, 
Grassy and wild, with ancient ruin heaped 
Of cells." 

This island, the largest of the four which embellish 
Lochleven, has been increased, by the partial draining of 
the lake, from thirty- two to eighty acres. It is named St 
Serf's Isle, as having been the site of a priory dedicated 
to St Serf or Servanus, who is reported to have been a 
pilgrim from Canaan, and in whose honour Bondeus, a 
Pictish king, founded the place, and gave the isle to his 
Culdees. David I. annexed it to the priory of St Andrews. 
Andrew Winton was prior of this place, and wrote in it 
his History of the World, beginning with the Creation, 
and ending with the Captivity of James I., in whose reign 
he died. This history is still extant in the Advocates' 
Library. The island has been recently brought under the 
plough, and the ruins of the priory converted into a stable, 
which Sir James Montgomery is about to shade with some 
trees from his neighbouring plantations, and so remove in 
part the present naked appearance of the scenery in that 
portion of the lake. — See Chambers' Gazetteer, Sibbald's Fife, 
and Forsyth's Beauties of Scotland. 

Note (4), page 20 L 

Of high LocMeren Castle, famous once ; 
The abode of heroes of the Bruce' s line" 

Lochleven Castle is of unknown antiquity. It is said 



NOTES. 209 

to have been founded by Congal, son of Dongart, king of 
the Picts. It occurs in history as early as 1334, when an 
unsuccessful siege was laid to it by John de Strevelin, an 
English officer. It was anciently a royal castle, and occa- 
sionally the residence of the Pictish and Scottish kings. 
Alexander III. lived some time in it after his return from 
an interview with Henry III. of England. It was granted 
by Robert III. to a branch of the Douglas family, but it 
seems to have reverted again to the Crown. Sir Robert 
Douglas, in 1542, received from James V. grants of the 
baronies of Dalkeith and Kinross, with the lake and castle 
of Lochleven, which title the family still enjoys, together 
with that of Morton, to which earldom they afterwards 
succeeded. 

Lochleven Castle has been repeatedly used as a state- 
prison. Patrick Graham, Archbishop of St Andrews, and 
grandson of King Robert III., after an unsuccessful at 
tempt to reform the lives of the Catholic clergy, was, 
through their influence at Court, arrested, confined in dif- 
ferent monasteries, and at last died a prisoner in Loch- 
leven Castle in 1478. After Mary Queen of Scots had 
parted with Bothwell at Carberry, and surrendered her- 
self a prisoner to the Confederate Lords, she was conveyed 
to this Castle, and shut up, June 16. 1567, under charge 
of the wife of Douglas of Lochleven, the mother of Mur- 
ray, afterwards Regent of Scotland. On the ensuing 24th 
of July she was compelled, by a party of those statesmen, 
to sign an instrument, resigning the Crown to her infant 
son, who was accordingly inaugurated a few days after at 
Stirling, under the title of James VI. Several attempts 
had been made to rescue her from her place of confine- 
ment, which the vigilance of her keeper rendered abor- 
tive ; but Mary had captivated the heart of George Dou- 
glas, her keeper's brother, a youth of eighteen, who, on 
May 2. 1568, conveyed her from the Castle in a boat to the 




210 NOTES. 

shore, an accomplice having found means to steal the 
keys and open the gates. The keys were thrown into 
the lake, and were recently found by a young man be- 
longing to Kinross, who presented them to the Earl of 
Morton, in whose possession they now are. The Earl of 
Northumberland, after his rebellion in England, was seized 
in Scotland, and confined in Lochleven Castle from 1569 
to 1572, when he was delivered up to Queen Elizabeth 
and executed. The square tower, and a portion of the 
rampart which surrounded the building, are all that now 
remain of this famous place, and which Sir James Mont- 
gomery is in the act of securing from further dilapidation. 
— See Noble's Genealogical History of the Stuarts, Chambers' 
Gazetteer, Maitland's History of Scotland, and Forsyth's Beau- 
ties of Scotland. 



THE 



LAST DAY. 



THE 



LAST DAY.* 



His second coming, who at first appear' d 
To save the world, but now to judge mankind 
According to their works ; — the trumpet's sound- 
The dead arising, — the wide world in flames, — 
The mansions of the blest, — and the dire pit 

Of Satan and of woe, Muse ! unfold. 

Thou ! whose eye the future and the past 
In one broad view beholdest — from the first 
Of days, when o'er this rude unformed mass 
Light, first-born of existence, f smiling rose, 
Down to that latest moment, when thy voice 
Shall bid the sun be darkness, when thy hand 
Shall blot creation out, — assist my song ! 
Thou only know'st, who gav'st these orbs to roll 



* For occasion of this poem, see 11 24, Life of Bruce. 
-j- " Hail holy light, offspring of Heaven first born." 

Milton. 



^14 THE LAST DAY. 

Their destin'd circles, when their course shall set; 

When ruin and destruction fierce shall ride 

In triumph o'er creation. This is hid, 

In kindness unto man. Thou giv'st to know 

The event certain : angels know not when.* 

5 Twas on an autumn's eve, serene and calm. 
I walk'd, attendant on the funeral 
Of an old swain : around, the village crowd 
Loquacious chatted, till we reach' d the place 
Where, shrouded up, the sons of other years 
Lie silent in the grave. The sexton there 
Had digg'd the bed of death, the narrow house 
For all that live appointed. To the dust 
We gave the dead. Then moralizing, home 
The swains returnd, to drown in copious bowk 
The labours of the day, and thoughts of death. 

The sun now trembled at the western gate ; 
His yellow rays stream'd in the fleecy clouds. 
I sat me down upon a broad flat stone ; 
And much I mused on the changeful state 
Of sublunary things. The joys of life, 
How frail, how short, how passing! As the sea r 
Now flowing, thunders on the rocky shore ; 
Now lowly ebbing, leaves a tract of sand, 
Waste, wide, and dreary : so, in this vain world. 
Through every varying state of life, we toss 
In endless fluctuation ; till, tir'd out 
With sad variety of bad and worse, 

* Matthew xxiv. 36. 



THE LAST DAY. 215 

We reach life's period, reach the blissful port, 
Where change affects not, and the weary rest. 

Then sure the sun which lights us to our shroud, 
Than that which gave us first to see the light, 
Is happier far. As he who, hopeless, long 
Hath rode th' Atlantic billow, from the mast, 
Skirting the blue horizon, sees the land. 
His native land approach; joy fills his heart. 
And swells each throbbing vein : so, here confin'd, 
We weary tread life's long long toilsome maze ; 
Still hoping, vainly hoping, for relief, 
And rest from labour. Ah ! mistaken thought : 
To seek in life what only death can give. 
But what is death ? Is it an endless sleep, 
Unconscious of the present and the past, 
And never to be waken'd ? Sleeps the soul ; 
Nor wakes ev'n in a dream ? If it is so, 
Happy the sons of pleasure ; they have liv'd 
And made the most of life : and foolish he, 
The sage, who, dreaming of hereafter, grudg'd 
Himself the tasting of the sweets of life, 
And call'd it temperance ; and hop'd for joys 
More durable and sweet, beyond the grave. 
Vain is the poet's song, the soldier's toil ! 
Vain is the sculptur'd marble and the bust ! 
How vain to hope for never-dying fame, 
If souls can die ! But that they never die, 
This thirst of glory whispers. Wherefore gave 
The great Creator such a strong desire 
He never meant to satisfy V These stones. 



216 THE LAST DAY. 

Memorials of the dead, with rustic art 

And rude inscription cut, declare the soul 

Immortal. Man, forrnd for eternity, 

Abhors annihilation, and the thought 

Of dark oblivion. Hence, with ardent wish 

And vigorous effort, each would fondly raise 

Some lasting monument, to save his name 

Safe from the waste of years. Hence Csesar fought ; 

Hence Raphael painted ; and hence Milton sung. 

Thus musing, sleep oppressed my drowsy sense, 
And wrapt me into rest. Before mine eyes, 
Fair as the morn, when up the flaming east 
The sun ascends, a radiant seraph stood, 
Crown'd with a wreath of palm : his golden hair 
Wav'd on his shoulders, girt with shining plumes ; 
From which, down to the ground, loose-floating trail'd, 
In graceful negligence, his heavenly robe : 
Upon his face, flush'd with immortal youth, 
Unfading beauty bloom' d ; and thus he spake : 

" Well hast thou judg'd; the soul must be immortal ! 
And that it is, this awful day declares ; 
This day, the last that e'er the sun shall gild : 
Arrested by Omnipotence, no more 
Shall he describe the year : the moon no more 
Shall shed her borrow'd light. This is the day 
Seal'd in the rolls of Fate, when o'er the dead 
Almighty Power shall wake and raise to life 
The sleeping myriads. Now shall be approv'd 
The ways of God to man, and all the clouds 



THE LAST DAY. 217 

Of Providence be clear'd :* now shall be disclos'd 
Why vice in purple oft upon a throne 
Exalted sat, and shook her iron scourge 
O'er Virtue, lowly seated on the ground : 
Now deeds committed in the sable shade 
Of eyeless darkness, shall be brought to light ; 
And every act shall meet its just reward/' 

As thus he spake, the morn arose ; and sure 
Methought ne'er rose a fairer. Not a cloud 
Spotted the blue expanse ; and not a gale 
Breath'd o'er the surface of the dewy earth. 
Twinkling with yellow lustre, the gay birds 
On every blooming spray sung their sweet lays, 
And prais'd their great Creator : through the fields 
The lowing cattle graz'd ; and all around 
Was beauty, happiness, and mirth, and love. — 
" All these thou seest (resum'd the angelic power) 
No more shall give thee pleasure. Thou must leave 
This world ; of which now come and see the end/' 

This said, he touch'd me, and such strength infus'd, 
That as he soared up the pathless air, 
I lightly followed. On the awful peak 
Of an eternal rock, against whose base 
The sounding billows beat, he set me down. 
I heard a noise, loud as a rushing stream, 



* " I may assert Eternal Providence, 

And justify the ways of God to men." 

Milton. 
" And vindicate the ways of God to man." — Pope. 



218 THE LAST DAY. 

When o'er the rugged precipice it roars, 

And foaming, thunders on the rocks below. 

Astonished, I gaz'd around ; when lo ! 

I saw an angel down from Heaven descend. 

His face was as the sun ; his dreadful height 

Such as the statue, by the Grecian plan'd, 

Of Philip's son, Athos, with all his rocks, 

Moulded into a man :* One foot on earth, 

And one upon the rolling sea, he fix'd. 

As when, at setting sun, the rainbow shines 

Refulgent, meting out the half of Heav'n — 

So stood he ; and, in act to speak he rais'd 

His shining hand. His voice was as the sound 

Of many waters, or the deep-mouth'd roar 

Of thunder, when it bursts the riven cloud, 

And bellows through the ether. Nature stood 

Silent, in all her works : while thus he spake : — 

« Hear, thou that roll'st above, thou radiant sun ! 



* " Athos. a mountain of Macedonia, 150 miles in circum- 
ference, projecting into the iEgean Sea, like a promontory. It 
is so high that it overshadows the island of Lemnos, though 
at the distance of 87 miles. A sculptor, called Dinocrates, 
offered Alexander to cut Mount Athos, and to make with it 
a statue of the King holding a town in his left hand, and in 
the right a spacious basin to receive all the waters which flow- 
ed into it. Alexander greatly admired the plan, but objected 
to the place; and he observed, that the neighbouring coun- 
try was not sufficiently fruitful to produce corn and provisions 
for the inhabitants, which were to dwell in the city, in the 
hand of the statue.'" — Lempriere' > $ Classical Dictionary, Arti- 
cle. Athos. 



THE LAST DAY. 219 

Ye heavens and earth, attend ! while I declare 
The will of the Eternal. By his name 
Who lives, and shall for ever live, I swear 
That time shall be no longer."* 

He disappear d. Fix'd in deep thought I stood, 
At what would follow. Straight another sound ; 
To which the Nile, o'er Ethiopia's rocks 
Rushing in one broad cataract, were nought. 
It seem'd as if the pillars that upheld 
The universe, had fall'n ,* and all its worlds, 
Unhing'd, had strove together for the way, 
In cumbrous crashing ruin. Such the roar ! 
A sound that might be felt ! It pierc'd beyond 
The limits of creation. Chaos roar'd ; 
And heav'n and earth return'd the mighty noise. — 
iC Thou hearst," said then my heav'nly guide, " the 

sound 
Of the last trumpet. See, where from the clouds 
Th' archangel Michael, one of the seven 
That minister before the throne of God, 
Leans forward ; and the sonorous tube inspires 
With breath immortal. By his side the sword 
Which, like a meteor, o'er the vanquished head 
Of Satan hung, when he rebellious rais'd 
War, and embroil'd the happy fields above." 

A pause ensued. The fainting sun grew pale. 
And seem'd to struggle through a sky of blood ; 



* Revelations x. 5, 6. 



220 THE LAST DAY. 

While dim eclipse impair'd his beam : the earth 

Shook to her deepest centre : Ocean rag'd, 

And dash'd his billows on the frighted shore. 

All was confusion. Heartless,, helpless,, wild, 

As flocks of timid sheep, or driven deer, 

Wandering, th' inhabitants of earth appear d : 

Terror in every look, and pale affright 

Sat in each eye ;* amazed at the past, 

And for the future trembling. All calFd great, 

Or deem'd illustrious, by erring man, 

Was now no more. The hero and the prince, 

Their grandeur lost, now mingled with the crowd ; 

And all distinctions, those except from faith 

And virtue flowing : these upheld the soul, 

As rib'd with triple steel. All else were lost ! 

Now, vain is greatness ! as the morning clouds. 
That, rising, promise rain : condens'd they stand, 
Till, touched by winds, they vanish into air. 
The farmer mourns : so mourns the helpless wretch, 
Who, cast by fortune from some envied height, 
Finds nought w T ithin him to support his fall. 
High as his hopes had rais'd him, low he sinks 
Below his fate, in comfortless despair. 



1 " The overthrown he raised, and as a herd 

Of goats and timorous flock together throng'd, 

Drove him before him thunderstruck, pursued 

With terrors and with furies to the bounds 

And crystal wall of heaven.'" 

" Horror rose fierce, rage and pale affright 

Varied each face." Milton. 



THE LAST DAY. 221 

Who would not laugh at an attempt to build 
A lasting structure on the rapid stream 
Of foaming Tigris,* the foundations laid 
Upon the glassy surface ? Such the hopes 
Of him whose views are bounded to this w r orld : 
Immers'd in his own labour' d work, he dreams 
Himself secure ; when, on a sudden down, 
Torn from its sandy ground, the fabric falls ! 
He starts, and, waking, finds himself undone. f 

Not so the man who on religion's base 
His hope and virtue founds. Firm on the Rock 
Of ages his foundation laid, remains, 
Above the frowns of fortune or her smiles ; 
In every varying state of life, the same. 
Nought fears he from the world, and nothing hope?., 
With unassuming courage, inward strength 
Endu d, resigned to Heaven, he leads a life 
superior to the common herd of men, 
Whose joys, connected with the changeful flood 
Of fickle fortune, ebb and flow with it. 

Nor is religion a chimera : Sure 
'Tis something real. Virtue cannot live, 
Divided from it. As a severed branch 
It withers, pines, and dies. Who loves not God, 
That made him, and preserv'd, nay more — redeemed. 



* The river Tigris (i. e. Sagitta) is so called from its rapi- 
ity. 
■f Matthew viii. 24. 



1^22 THE LAST DAY. 

Is dangerous. Can ever gratitude 

Bind him who spurns at these most sacred ties ? 

Say, can he, in the silent scenes of life, 

Be sociable ? Can he be a friend ? 

At best, he must but feign. The worst of brutes 

An atheist is ; for beasts acknowledge God. 

The lion, with the terrors of his mouth, 

Pays homage to his Maker ; the grim wolf, 

At midnight, howling, seeks his meat from God. 

Again th' archangel rais'd his dreadful voice. 
Earth trembled at the sound. " Awake, ye dead ! 
And come to judgment.' ' At the mighty call, 
As armies issue at the trumpet's sound, 
So rose the dead. A shaking first I heard,* 
And bone together came unto his bone, 
Though sever' d by wide seas and distant lands. 
A spirit liv'd within them, j He who made, 
Wound up, and set in motion, the machine, 
To run unhurt the length of fourscore years, 
Who knows the structure of each secret spring ; 
Can He not join again the sever' d parts, 
And join them with advantage ? This to man 
Hard and impossible may seem ; to God 
Is easy. Now, through all the darken'd air, 
The living atoms flew, each to his place, 
And nought was missing in the great account, 
Down from the dust of him whom Cain first slew, 



* Ezekiel xxxvii. 7. *r Spiritus intus olit — Hor. 



THE LAST DAY. 223 

To him who yesterday was laid in earth, 
And scarce had seen corruption ; whether in 
The bladed grass they cloth* d the verdant plain. 
Or smil'd in opening flowers ; or, in the sea, 
Became the food of monsters of the deep, 
Or pass'd in transmigrations infinite 
Through ev'ry kind of being. None mistakes 
His kindred matter ; but. by sympathy 
Combining, rather by Almighty Pow'r 
Led on, they closely mingle and unite 
But chang'd: for subject to decay no more. 
Or dissolution, deathless as the soul, 
The body is ; and fitted to enjoy 
Eternal bliss, or bear eternal pain. 

As when in spring the sun's prolific beams 
Have wak'd to life the insect tribes, that sport 
And wanton in his rays at ev'ning mild, 
Proud of their new existence, up the air, 
In devious circles wheeling, they ascend, 
Innumerable ; the whole air is dark : 
So, by the trumpet rous'd, the sons of men, 
In countless numbers, cover' d all the ground, 
From frozen Greenland to the southern pole : 
All who ere hVd on earth. See Lapland's sons, 
Whose zenith is the pole : a barb'rous race ! 
Rough as their storms, and savage as their clime, 
UnpolishM as their bears, and but in shape 
Distinguish'd from them : Reason's dying lamp 
Scarce brighter burns than instinct in their breast. 
With wand'ring Russians, and all those who dwelt 



22.4 THE LAST DAY. 

In Scandinavia, by the Baltic Sea ; 
The rugged Pole, with Prussia's warlike race : 
Germania pours her numbers, where the Rhine 
And mighty Danube pour their flowing urns. 

Behold thy children, Britain ! hail the light : 
A manly race, whose business was arms, 
And long uncivilized : yet, train'd to deeds 
Of virtue, they withstood the Roman power, 
And made their eagles droop. On Morven's coast, 
A race of heroes and of bards arise ; 
The mighty Fingal, and his mighty son, 
Who launch'd the spear, and touch'd the tuneful harp; 
With Scotia's chiefs, the sons of later years, 
Her Kenneths and her Malcoms, warriors fam'd ; 
Her generous Wallace, and her gallant Bruce. 
See, in her pathless wilds, where the grey stones 
Are rais'd in memory of the mighty dead. 
Armies arise of English, Scots, and Picts ; 
And giant Danes, who, from bleak Norway's coast. 
Ambitious, came to conquer her fair fields, 
And chain her sons : But Scotia gave them graves ! — - 
Behold the kings that filTd the English throne ! 
Edwards and Henries, names of deathless fame, 
Start from the tomb. Immortal William ! see, 
Surrounding angels point him from the rest, 
W^ho sav'd the state from tyranny and Rome. 
Behold her poets ! Shakspeare, fancy's child ; 
Spenser, who, through his smooth and moral tale, 
Y-points fair virtue out ; with him who sung 
Of man's first disobedience. Young lifts up 



THE LAST DAY. 225 

His awful head, and joys to see the day, 

The great, th' important day, of which he sung. 

See where imperial Rome exalts her height ! 
Her senators and gowned fathers rise ; 
Her consuls, who, as ants without a king, 
Went forth to conquer kings ; and at then' wheels 
In triumph led the chiefs of distant lands, 
Behold, in Cannae's field, what hostile swarms 
Burst from th 5 ensanguined ground, where Hannibal 
Shook Rome through all her legions : Italy 
Trembled unto the Capitol. If fate 
Had not withstood th' attempt, she now had bow'd 
Her head to Carthage. See, Pharsalia pours 
Her murder d thousands ! who, in the last strife 
Of Rome for dying liberty, were slain, 
To make a man the master of the world, 

All Europe's sons throng forward ; numbers vast ! 
Imagination fails beneath the weight. 
What numbers yet remain ! Th' enervate race 
Of Asia, from where Tanais rolls 
O'er rocks and dreary wastes his foaming stream, 
To where the Eastern Ocean thunders round 
The spicy Java ; with the tawny race 
That dwelt in Afric, from the Red Sea, north, 
To the Cape, south, where the rude Hottentot 
Sinks into brute ; with those, who long unknown 
Till by Columbus found, a naked race ! 
And only skill'd to urge the sylvan war, 
That peopled the wide continent that spreads 
From rocky Zembla, whiteiid with the snow 
p 



226 THE LAST DAY. 

Of twice three thousand years, south to the Straits 
Nam'd from Magellan, where the ocean roars 
Round earth's remotest bounds. Now, had not He, 
The great Creator of the universe, 
Enlarg'd the wide foundations of the world, 
Room had been wanting to the mighty crowds 
That pour'd from every quarter. At his word. 
Obedient angels stretch'd an ample plain, 
Where dwelt his people in the Holy Land, 

Fit to contain the whole of human race 

As when the autumn, yellow on the fields, 
Invites the sickle, forth the farmer sends 
His servants to cut down and gather in 
The bearded grain : so, by Jehovah sent, 
His angels, from all corners of the world, 
Led on the living and awaken'd dead 
To judgment ; as, in th' Apocalypse, 
John, gather'd, saw the people of the earth, 

And kings, to Armageddon. -Now look round 

Thou whose ambitious heart for glory beats ! 
See all the wretched things on earth call'd great, 
And lifted up to gods ! How little now 
Seems all their grandeur ! See the conqueror, 
Mad Alexander, who his victor arms 
Bore o'er the then known globe, then sat him down 
And wept, because he had no other world 
To give to desolation ; * how he droops ! 



* -' Where the hot brain'd youth 
Who the tiara at his pleasure tore 



THE LAST DAY. ~* ' 

He knew not, hapless wretch ! he never learn'd 

The harder conquest — to subdue himself. 

Now is the Christian's triumph, now he lifts 

His head on high ; while down the dying hearts 

Of sinners helpless sink : black guilt distracts 

And wrings their tortur'd souls ; while every thought 

Is big with keen remorse, or dark despair. 

But now a nobler subject claims the song. 
My mind recoils at the amazing theme : 
For how shall finite speak of infinite ? 
How shall a stripling, by the Muse untaught, 
Sing Heaven's Almighty, prostrate at whose feet 
Archangels fall. Unequal to the task, 
I dare the bold attempt : assist me Heaven ! 
From Thee begun, with Thee shall end my song ! 

Now, down from th ? opening firmament, 
Seated upon a sapphire throne, high rais'd 
Upon an azure ground, upheld by wheels 
Of emblematic structure, as a wheel 
Had been within a wheel, studded with eyes 
Of flaming fire, and by four cherubs led ; 
I saw the Judge descend. Around Him came 
By thousands and by millions, Heaven's bright host. 
About him blaz'd insufferable light, 
Invisible as darkness to the eye. 



From kings of all the then discover'd globe 

And cried, forsooth, because his arm was hampered 

And had not room enough to do its work." 

Blair's Grave, 



228 THE LAST DAY. 

His car above the mount of Olives stay'd 

Where last with his disciples He convers'd, 

And left them gazing as He soar'd aloft. 

He darkness as a curtain drew around ; 

On which the colour of the rainbow shone, 

Various and bright ; and from within was heard 

A voice, as deep-mouth'd thunder, speaking thus : 

iC Go, Raphael, and from these reprobate 

Divide my chosen saints ; go separate 

My people from among them, as the wheat 

Is in the harvest sever'd from the tares : 

Set them upon the right, and on the left 

Leave these ungodly. Thou, Michael, choose, 

From forth th' angelic host, a chosen band, 

And Satan with his legions hither bring 

To judgment, from Hell's caverns ; whither fled, 

They think to hide from my awaken'd wrath, 

Which chas'd them out of Heaven, and which they dread 

More than the horrors of the pit, which now 

Shall be redoubled sevenfold on their heads." 

Swift as conception, at his bidding flew 
His ministers, obedient to his word. 
And, as a shepherd, who all day hath fed 
His sheep and goats promiscuous, but at eve 
Dividing, shuts them up in different folds : 
So now the good were parted from the bad ; 
For ever parted; never more to join 
And mingle as on earth, w r here often past 
For other each ; ev'n close Hypocrisy 
Escapes not, but, unmask'd, alike the scorn 



THE LAST DAY. 229 

Of vice and virtue stands. Now separate, 

Upon the right appealed a dauntless, firm, 

Composed number: joyful at the thought 

Of immortality, they forward look'd 

"With hope unto the future ; conscience, pleas'd, 

Smiling, reflects upon a well-spent life ; 

Heaven dawns within their breasts. The other crew, 

Pale and dejected, scarcely lift their heads 

To view the hated light : his trembling hand 

Each lays upon his guilty face ; and now, 

In gnawings of the never-dying worm, 

Begins a hell that never shall be queneh'd. 

But now the enemy of God and man, 
Cursing his fate, comes forward, led in chains, 
Infrangible, of burning adamant, 
Hewn from the rocks of Hell ; now too the bands 
Of rebel angels, who long time had wahVd 
The world, and by their oracles deceived 
The blinded nations, or by secret guile 
Wrought men to vice, came on, raging in vain, 
And struggling with their fetters, which, as fate, 
CompelTd them fast. They wait their dreadful doom. 

Now from his lofty throne, with eyes that blazM 
Intolerable day, th* Almighty Judge 
Look'd down awhile upon the subject crowd. 
As when a caravan of merchants, led 
By thirst of gain to travel the parch'd sands 
Of waste Arabia, hears a lion roar, 
The wicked trembled at his view; upon 
The ground they roll'd, in pangs of wild despair, 



230 THE LAST DAY. 

To hide their faces, which not blushes mark'd 
But livid horror. Conscience, who asleep 
Long time had lain, now lifts her snaky head, 
And frights them into madness ; while the list 
Of all their sins she offers to their view : 
For she had power to hurt them, and her sting 
Was as a scorpion's. He who never knew 
Its wound is happy, though a fetter'd slave, 
Chain'd to the oar, or to the dark damp mine 
Confin'd ; while he who sits upon a throne, 
Under her frown, is wretched. But the damn'd 
Alone can tell what 'tis to feel her scourge 
In all its horrors, with her poison'd sting 
Fix'd in their hearts. This is the Second Death. 

Upon the Book of Life He laid his hand, 
Clos'd with the seal of Heaven ; which op'd, he read 
The names of the Elect. God knows his own.* 
ie Come (looking on the right, he mildly said), 
Ye of my Father blessed, ere the world 
Was moulded out of chaos — ere the sons 
Of God, exulting, sung at Nature's birth : 
For you I left my throne, my glory left, 
And, shrouded up in clay, I weaiy walk'd 
Your world, and many miseries endured : 
Death was the last. For you I died, that you 
Might live with me for ever, and in Heav'n sit 
On thrones, and as the sun in brightness, shine 
For ever in my kingdom. Faithfully 

* 2 Timothy, ii. 19. 



THE LAST DAY. 231 

Have ye approv'd yourselves. I hungry was, 

And thirsty, and ye gave me meat and drink ; 

Ye clothed me, naked ; when I fainting lay 

In all the sad variety of pain, 

Ye cheer' d me with the tenderness of friends ; 

In sickness and in prison, me reliev'd. 

Nay, marvel not that thus I speak : whene'er, 

Led by the dictates of fair charity, 

Ye help'd the man on whom keen poverty 

And wretchedness had laid their meagre hands, 

And for my sake, ye did it unto me."* 

They heard with joy, and, shouting, rais'd their voice 
In praise of their Redeemer ! Loos'd from earth, 
They soar'd triumphant, and at the right hand 
Of the great Judge sat down ; who on the left 
Now looking stern, with fury in his eyes, 
Blasted their spirits, while his arrows fix'd 
Deep in their hearts, in agonizing pain 
Scorched their vitals, thus their dreadful doom 
(More dreadful from those lips which us'd to bless) 
He awfully pronoimc'd. Earth at his frown 
Convulsive trembled ; while the raging deep 
Hush'd in a horrid calm his waves. " Depart, 
(These, for I heard them, were his awful words !) 
<c Depart from me, ye cursed ! Oft have I strove, 
In tenderness and pity, to subdue 
Your rebel hearts ; as a fond parent bird, 
When danger threatens, flutters round her young, 

* Matthew xxv. 41-45. 



£32 THE LAST DAY. 

Nature's strong impulse beating in her breast. 
Thus ardent did I strive : But all in vain. 
Now will I laugh at your calamity. 
And mock your fears : as oft, in stupid mirth , 
Hardened in wickedness, ye pointed out 
The man who laboured up the steep ascent 
Of virtue, to reproach. Depart to fire 
Kindled in Tophet for th' arch enemy, 
For Satan and his angels, who, by pride, 
Fell into condemnation ; blown up now 
To sevenfold fury by th' Almighty breath. 
There, in that dreary mansion, where the light 
Is solid gloom, darkness that may be felt,* 
Where hope, the lenient of the ills of life, 
For ever dies; there shall ye seek for death, 
And shall not find it : for your greatest curse 
Is immortality. Omnipotence 
Eternally shall punish and preserve/' 

So said he ; and, his hand high lifting, hurPd 
The flashing lightning, and the flaming bolt, 
Full on the wicked : kindling in a blaze 
The scorched earth. Behind, before, around, 
The trembling wretches burst the quivering flames. 
They turn'd to fly ; but wrath divine pursuM 
To where, beyond creation's utmost bound, 
Where never glimpse of cheerful light arrived, 



* w Stretch out thine hand toward heaven that there may 
be darkness over the land of Egypt, even darkness which may 
be felt."— Exodus x. 21. 



THE LAST DAY. 233 

Where scarce e'en thought can travel,, but,, absorb'd, 

Falls headlong down th' immeasurable gulf 

Of Chaos — wide and wild, their prison stood 

Of utter darkness, as the horrid shade 

That clouds the brow of death. Its op'ned mouth 

Belch'd sheets of livid flame and pitchy smoke. 

Infernal thunders, with explosion dire, 

Roar'd through the fiery concave ; while the waves 

Of liquid sulphur beat the burning shore, 

In endless ferment. O'er the dizzy steep 

Suspended, wrapt in suffocating gloom, 

The sons of black damnation shrieking hung. 

Curses unutterable filTd their mouths, 

Hideous to hear ; their eyes rain'd bitter tears 

Of agonizing madness, for their day 

Was past, and from their eye repentance hid 

For ever ! Round their heads their hissing brands 

The Furies wav'd, and o'er the whelming brink 

Impetuous urg'd them. In the boiling surge 

They headlong fell. The flashing billows roar'd ; 

And hell from all her caves return'd the sound. 

The gates of flint, and tenfold adamant, 

With bars of steel, impenetrably firm, 

Were shut for ever : The decree of fate, 

Immutable, made fast the pond'rous door. 

" Now turn thine eyes/' my bright conductor said : 
Behold the world in flames ! so sore the bolts 
Of thunder, laanch'd by the Almighty arm, 
Hath smote upon it. Up the blacken'd air 



234 THE LAST DAY. 

Ascend the curling flames, and billowy smoke ; 

And hideous crackling blot the face of day 

With foul eruption. From their inmost beds 

The hissing waters rise. Whatever drew 

The vital air, or in the spacious deep 

Wanton'd at large, expires. Heard'st thou that crash ? 

There fell the tow'ring Alps, and, dashing down, 

Lay bare their centre. See, the flaming mines 

Expand their treasures ! no rapacious hand 

To seize the precious bane. Now look around : 

Say, Canst thou tell where stood imperial Rome, 

The wonder of the world ; or where, the boast 

Of Europe, fair Britannia, stretch'd her plain, 

Encircled by the ocean ? All is wrapt 

In darkness : as (if great may be compar'd 

With small) when, on Gomorrah's fated field, 

The flaming sulphur, by Jehovah rain'd, 

Sent up a pitchy cloud, killing to life, 

And tainting all the air. Another groan ! 

'Twas Nature's last : and see ! th' extinguished sun 

Falls devious through the void ; and the fair face 

Of Nature is no more ! With sullen joy 

Old Chaos views the havoc, and expects 

To stretch his sable sceptre o'er the blank 

Where once Creation smil'd : o'er which, perhaps 

Creative energy again shall w T ake, 

And into being call a brighter sun, 

And fairer worlds ; which, for delightful change, 

The saints, descending from the happy seats 



THE LAST DAY. 235 

Of bliss, shall visit. And, behold ! they rise, 
And seek their native land : around them move, 
In radiant files, Heaven's host. Immortal wreaths 
Of amaranth and roses crown their heads ; 
And each a branch of ever-blooming palm 
Triumphant holds. In robes of dazzling white, 
Fairer than that by wintry tempests shed 
Upon the frozen ground, array'd, they shine, 
Fair as the sun, when up the steep of Heavm 
He rides in all the majesty of light. 

But who can tell, or if an angel could, 
Thou couldst not hear, the glories of the place 
For their abode prepared ? Though oft on earth 
They struggled hard against the stormy tide 
Of adverse fortune, and the bitter scorn 
Of harden'd villany — their life a course 
Of warfare upon earth ; these toils, when view'd 
With the reward, seem nought. The Lord shall guide 
Their steps to living fountains, and shall wipe 
All tears from ev'ry eye. The wintry clouds 
That frown'd on life, rack up. A glorious sun, 
That ne'er shall set, arises in a sky 
Unclouded and serene. Their joy is full : 
And sickness, pain, and death, shall be no more. 

Dost thou desire to follow ? does thy heart 
Beat ardent for the prize ? Then tread the path 
Religion points to man. What thou hast seen, 
Fix'd in thy heart retain : For, be assur'd, 
In that last moment— in the closing act 



236 THE LAST DAY. 

Of Nature's drama, e'er the hand of fate 

Drop the black curtain, thou must bear thy part, 

And stand in thine own lot * 

This said, he stretch d 
His wings, and in a moment left my sight. 



! Daniel xii. 13. 



237 



ODES AND HYMNS, 



239 



TO THE CUCKOO, 

Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove ! 

Thou messenger of Spring ! 
Now Heav'n repairs thy rural seat, 

And woods thy welcome sing. 

Soon as the daisy decks the green, 

Thy certain voice we hear. 
Hast thou a star to guide thy path, 

Or mark the rolling year? 

Delightful visitant ! with thee 

I hail the time of flow'rs, 
And hear the sound of music sweet 

From birds among the bow'rs. 

The school-boy, wand'ring through the wood * 
To pull the primrose gay, 

* Wordsworth seems to have had this stanza present to his 
mind when writing the following verses in his " Ode to the 
Cuckoo ;" but it will not be allowed, we think, that he has 
equalled it : 

" Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring, 
E'en yet thou art to me. 
No bird ; but an invisible thing, 
A voice, a mystery ! 

" The same which in my school-boy days 
I listened to ; that cry 
Which made me look a thousand ways, 
In bush, and tree, and sky. 



240 TO THE CUCKOO. 

Starts thy curious voice to hear,* 
And imitates thy lay. 

What time the pea puts on the bloom, 
Thou fly'st thy vocal vale,t 

An annual guest, in other lands, 
Another Spring to hail. 



* The common reading of this line is 

"Starts the new voice of Spring to hear." 

It is altered in the text in compliance with the following 
suggestion : — " Will you allow me to suggest that when you 
republish the Ode to the Cuckoo, you should consider whether 
the original reading of the line ought not to be restored, 
namely, 

" Starts thy curious voice to hear," 
instead of 

" Starts the new voice of Spring to hear." 
" Curious " may be a Scotticism, but it is felicitous. It 
marks the unusual resemblance of the note of the Cuckoo to 
the human voice, the cause of the start and imitation which 
follow. Whereas the " new voice of Spring" is not true ; for 
many voices in Spring precede that of the Cuckoo, and it is 
not peculiar or striking, nor does it connect either with the 
start or imitation. So the matter strikes me ; and I submit 
it to your judgment, to which perhaps it has occurred before." 
—Letter from Lord Mackenzie to the Editor. 

•f- " The cry, which is the note of the male, ceases about the 
close of June. The female makes only occasionally a chat- 
tering noise, which bears some resemblance to the cry of the 
dabchick. From the silence of the male, it had been supposed 
that the old birds directed their course southward early in 
July ; but their silence is occasioned by the approach of their 
moulting ; and most of them take their departure between 
the 1st and 15th September — Encyc. Brit. Art Ornithology. 



TO THE CUCKOO. 241 



Sweet bird ! thy bow'r is ever green, 

Thy sky is ever clear ; 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, 

No winter in thy year ! 

could I fly, I'd fly with thee ! 

We'd make, with joyful wing, 
Our annual visit o'er the globe, 

Attendants on the spring.* 



* A very beautiful Ode to the Cuckoo appeared in Ruddi- 
man's Magazine, Thursday, May 22. 1777. The piece is ano- 
nymous, but the writer seems to have been familiar with 
Brace's Ode, and has borrowed the thought contained in this 
stanza in the following verse :— . 

Oh ! like thee, the bird I love, 
I on every new remove 

Fresh scenes of joy would know. 
And where gath'ring storms appear 
(Left the baneful hemisphere), 

To kinder regions go. 



242 



TO A FOUNTAIN. 

Fountain of the wood ! whose glassy wave.. 
Slow-swelling from the rock of years, 
Holds to heav'n a mirror blue, 
And bright as Anna's eye, 

With whom I've sported on the margin green : 
My hand with leaves, with lilies white. 
Gaily deck'd her golden hair, 
Young Naiad of the vale. 

Fount of my native wood ! thy murmurs greet 
My ear, like poet's heavenly strain ; 
Fancy pictures in a dream 
The golden days of youth. 

state of innocence ! paradise ! 
In Hope's gay garden, Fancy views 
Golden blossoms, golden fruits. 
And Eden ever green. 

Where now, ye dear companions of my youth ! 
Ye brothers of my bosom ! where 
Do ye tread the walks of life, 
Wide scatter'd o'er the world ? 



TO A FOUNTAIN. 243 

Thus winged larks forsake their native nest, 
The merry minstrels of the morn : 
New to Heaven they mount away, 
And meet again no more. 

All things decay ; — the forest like the leaf; 
Great kingdoms fall ; the peopled globe, 
Planet-struck, shall pass away ; 
Heavens w 7 ith their hosts expire : 

But Hope's fair visions, and the beams of joy, 
Shall cheer my bosom : I will sing 
Nature's beauty, Nature's birth, 
And heroes, on the lyre. 

Ye Naiads ! blue-eyed sisters of the wood ! 
Who by old oak, or storied stream, 
Nightly tread your mystic maze, 
And charm the wand'ring moon, 

Beheld by poet's eye ; inspire my dreams 
With visions like the landscape fair 
Of heaven's bliss, to dying saints 
By guardian angels drawn, 

Fount of the forest ! in thy poet's lays 

Thy waves shall flow: this wreath of flow'rs, 
Gather'd by Anna's hand, 
I ask to bind my brow. 



244 



DANISH ODE. 

The great, the glorious deed is done ! 
The foe is fled ! the field is won ! 
Prepare the feast, the heroes call ; 
Let joy, let triumph fill the hall ! 

The raven claps his sable wings ; 
The bard his chosen timbrel brings ; 
Six virgins round, a select choir, 
Sing to the music of his lyre. 

With mighty ale the goblet crown ; 
With mighty ale your sorrows drown : 
To-day, to mirth and joy we yield ; 
To-morrow, face the bloody field. 

From danger's front, at battle's eve, 
Sweet comes the banquet to tne brave : 
Joy shines with genial beam on all, 
The joy that dwells in Odin's hall. 

The song bursts living from the lyre, 
Like dreams that guardian ghosts inspire ; 
When mimic shrieks the heroes hear, 
And whirl the visionary spear. 



DANISH ODE. 24 

Music's the med'cine of the mind ; 
The cloud of care give to the wind. 
Be eVry brow with garlands bound, 
And let the cup of joy go round. 

The cloud comes o'er the beam of light ; 
We're guests that tarry but a night : 
In the dark house, together pressed, 
The princes and the people rest. 

Send round the shell ;* the feast prolong, 
And send away the night in song. 
Be blest below, as those above 
With Odin's and the friends they love. 



* The ancient Danes and Scots drank in shells. " To re- 
joice in the shell," is a phrase used in Ossian for drinking 
freely. 



246 



DANISH ODE. 

In deeds of arms, our fathers rise, 
Illustrious in their offspring's eyes : 
They fearless rushed through ocean's storms, 
And dar'd grim death in all its forms : 
Each youth assumed the sword and shield, 
And grew a hero in the field. 

Shall we degenerate from our race, 
Inglorious in the mountain chase ? 
Arm, arm in fallen Hubba's right ; 
Place your forefathers in your sight. 
To fame, to glory, fight your way, 
And teach the nations to obey. 

Assume the oars, unbind the sails ; 
Send, Odin ! send propitious gales. 
At Loda's stone, we will adore 
Thy name with songs, upon the shore ; 
And, full of thee, undaunted dare 
The foe, and dart the bolts of war. 

No feast of shells, no dance by night, 
Are glorious Odin's dear delight. 



DANISH ODE. 247 

He, king of men, his armies led 
Where heroes strove, where battles bled. 
Now reigns above the morning star, 
The God of thunder and of war, 

Bless'd who in battle bravely fall ! 
They mount on wings to Odin s hall ! 
To music's sound, in eups of gold, 
They drink new wine with chiefs of old : 
The song of bards records their name, 
And future times shall speak their fame. 

Hark ! Odin thunders ! haste on board ; 
Illustrious Canute !'* give the word. 
On wings of wind we pass the seas, 
To conquer realms, if Odin please ; 
With Odin's spirit in our soul, 
We'll gain the globe from pole to pole. 



* Canute, surnamed the Great, King of Denmark, and 
upon the death of Edmund, proclaimed King of England, 
A. D. 1017. 



248 



TO PAOLI. 



" Paoli's father was one of the patriots who effected their 
escape from Corsica when the French reduced it to obedience. 
He retired to Naples, and brought up this, his youngest son, 
in the Neapolitan service. The Corsicans heard of young 
Paoli's abilities, and solicited him to come over to his native 
country and take the command. He found all things in con- 
fusion : he formed a democratical government, of which he 
was chosen chief, and took such measures both for repressing 
abuses and moulding the rising generation, that if France 
had not interfered, Corsica might, at this day, have been as 
free and flourishing and happy a commonwealth as any of 
the Grecian States in the days of their prosperity. A despe- 
rate struggle was made to the French usurpation. They of- 
fered to confirm Paoli in the supreme government, only on 
condition that he would hold it under their government. 
This he refused. They then set a price upon his head. Du- 
ring two campaigns he kept them at bay ; they overpowered 
him at length ; he was driven to the shore, and having es- 
caped on shipboard, took refuge in England. — Southey's 
Life of Nelson. 



What man, what hero shall the Muses sing. 
On classic lyre, or Caledonian string, * 

Whose name shall fill th' immortal page ; 



* " Quern virum, aut heroa, lyra vel acri 
Tibia sumis celebrare, Clio ?" 

Horace, Carcin. I. Ode xiL 



TO PAOLI. 249 

Who, fired from heaven with energy divine, 
In sun-bright glory bids his actions shine 
First in the annals of the age ? 

Ceas'd are the golden times of yore ; 

The age of heroes is no more : 
Rare, in these latter times, arise to fame 
The poet's strain inspired, or hero's heavenly flame. 

What star arising in the southern sky, 
New to the heavens, attracting Europe's eye, 

With beams unborrowed shines afar ? 
Who comes with thousands marching in his rear, 
Shining in arms, shaking his bloody spear, 
Like the red comet, sign of war ? 

Paoli ! sent of heaven, to save 

A rising nation of the brave ; 
Whose firm right hand his angels arm, to bear 
A shield before his host, and dart the bolts of war. 

He comes ! he comes ! the saviour of the land ! 
His drawn sword flames in his uplifted hand, 

Enthusiast in his country's cause ; 
Whose firm resolve obeys a nations call, 
To rise deliv'rer, or a martyr fall 
To Liberty, to dying laws. 
Ye sons of Freedom, sing his praise ! 
Ye poets, bind his brows with bays ! 

" What man, what hero, on the tuneful lyre, 
Or sharp-ton'd flute, will Clio choose to raise 
Deathless to fame ?" 

Francis, Translation, 



250 TO PAOLI. 

Ye scepter'd shadows cast your honours down,, . 
And bow before the head that never wore a crown ! 

Who to the hero can the palm refuse ? 
Great Alexander still the world subdues, 

The heir of everlasting praise. 
But when the hero's flame,, the patriot's light ; 
When virtues human and divine unite ; 
When olives twine among the bays ; 

And mutual, both Minerva's shine : 

A constellation so divine, 
A wondering world behold, admire, and love, 
And his best image here th' Almighty marks above. 

As the lone shepherd hides him in the rocks, 
When high heaven thunders ; as the tim'rous flocks 

From the descending torrent flee : 
So flies a world of slaves at war's alarms, 
When zeal on flame, and Liberty in arms, 
Leads on the fearless and the free, 
Resistless ; as the torrent flood, 
Horn'd like the moon, uproots the wood, 
Sweeps flocks, and herds, and harvests from their base,* 
And moves th' eternal hills from their appointed place. 



" Red, from the hills, innumerable streams 
Tumultuous roar; and, high above its banks, 
The river left ; before whose rushing tide 
Herds, flocks, and harvests, cottages and swains, 
Roll mingled down. 1 ' 

Thomson's Autumn. 



TO PAOLI. 251 

Long hast thou laboured in the glorious strife. 
land of Liberty ! profuse of life, 

And prodigal of priceless blood. 
Where heroes bought with blood the martyr's crown, 
A race arose, heirs of their high renown, 

Who dar'd their fate thro' fire and flood : 

And Gaffori the great arose, 

Whose words of power disarmed his foes ; 
And where the filial image smiled afar, 
The sire turned not aside the thunders of the war.* 

Liberty ! to man a guardian given, 

Thou best and brightest attribute of Heaven ! 



* 4< Gaffori was a hero worthy of old times. His eloquence 
was long remembered with admiration. A hand of assassins 
was once advancing against him. He heard of their approach? 
went out to meet them, and with a serene dignity which 
overawed them, requested them to hear him. He then spoke 
to them so forcibly of the distresses of their country, her in- 
tolerable wrongs, and the hopes and views of their brethren 
in arms, that the very men who had been hired to murder 
him fell at his feet, implored his forgiveness, and joined his 
banners. While he was besieging the Genoese in Corte, a 
part of the garrison perceiving the nurse with his eldest son, 
then an infant in arms, straying at a little distance from the 
camp, suddenly sallied, and seized them. The use they made 
of their persons was in conformity to their usual execrable 
conduct. When Gaffori advanced to batter the walls, they 
held up the child directly over that part of the wall at which 
the guns were pointed. The Corsicans stopt ; but Gaffori 
stood at their head, and ordered them to continue the fire. 
Providentially, the child escaped, and lived to relate, with 
becoming feeling, a fact so honourable to his father." — 
Southey's Life of Nelson, 



252 TO PAOLI. 

From whom descending, thee we sing. 
By nature wild, or by the arts refined, 
We feel thy power essential to our mind ; 
Each son of Freedom is a king. 
Thy praise the happy world proclaim, 
And Britain worships at thy name, 
Thou guardian angel of Britannia's isle ! 
And God and man rejoice in thy immortal smile !] 

Island of beauty, lift thy head on high ! 
Sing a new song of triumph to the sky ! 

The day of thy deliv'rance springs — 
The day of vengeance to thy ancient foe ! 
Thy sons shall lay the proud oppressor low, 
And break the head of tyrant kings. 

Paoli ! mighty man of war ! 

All bright in arms, thy conquering car 
Ascend ; thy people from the foe redeem, 
Thou delegate of Heaven, and son of the Supreme ! 

Ruled by th' eternal laws, supreme o'er all, 
Kingdoms, like kings, successive rise and fall. 

When Csesar conquered half the earth, 
And spread his eagles in Britannia's sun ; 
Did Csesar dream the savage huts he won 
I Should give a far-famed kingdom birth ? 

That here should Roman freedom light ; 

The western Muses wing their flight ; 
The Arts, the Graces find their favrite home ; 
Our armies awe the globe, and Britain rival Rome ? 



TO PAOLI. 253 

Thus, if th' Almighty say, i( Let Freedom be/' 

Thou, Corsica, thy golden age shalt see ! 

Rejoice with songs, rejoice with smiles ! 

Worlds yet unfound, and ages yet unborn, 

Shall hail a new Britannia in her morn, 
The queen of arts, the queen of isles : 
The Arts, the beauteous train of Peace, 
Shall rise and rival Rome and Greece ; 

A Newton Nature's book unfold sublime ; 

A Milton sing to Heav n, and charm the ear of Time !* 



* Milton uses language very similar to this of himself, 
" Then, amidst the hymns and hallelujahs of saints, some one 
may perhaps be heard offering at high strains, in new and 
lofty measures, to sing and celebrate thy divine mercies and 
marvellous judgments in this land throughout all ages." — 
Milton's Reformation in England. 



254 



THE COMPLAINT OF NATURE. 

Few are thy days and full of woe, 

man of woman born ! 
Thy doom is written, u Dust thou art, 

And shalt to dust return/' 

Determin'd are the days that fly 

Successive o'er thy head ; 
The number' d hour is on the wing, 

That lays thee with the dead. 

Alas ! the little day of life 

Is shorter than a span ; 
Yet black with thousand hidden ills 

To miserable man. 

Gay is thy morning ; flattering hope 

Thy sprightly step attends ; 
But soon the tempest howls behind 

And the dark night descends. 

Before its splendid hour the cloud 

Comes o'er the beam of light ; 
A pilgrim in a weary land, 

Man tanies but a night. 



THE COMPLAINT OF NATURE. 255 

Behold ! sad emblem of thy state, 

The flowers that paint the field ; 
Or trees, that crown the mountain's brow, 

And boughs and blossoms yield. 

When chill the blast of winter blows, 

Away the summer flies, 
The flowers resign their sunny robes, 

And all their beauty dies. 

Nipt by the year, the forest fades ; 

And, shaking to the wind, 
The leaves toss to and fro and streak 

The wilderness behind. 

The winter past, reviving flowers 

Anew shall paint the plain ; 
The woods shall hear the voice of spring, 

And flourish green again : 

But man departs this earthly scene, 

Ah ! never to return ! 
No second spring shall e'er revive 

The ashes of the urn. 

Th' inexorable doors of death 

What hand can e'er unfold ? 
Who from the cerements of the tomb 

Can raise the human mold ? 



256 THE COMPLAINT OF NATURE. 

The mighty flood that rolls along 

Its torrents to the main, 
The waters lost can ne'er recal 

From that abyss again, 

The days, the years, the ages, dark 
Descending down to night, 

Can never, never be redeem' d 
Back to the gates of light. 

So man departs the living scene, 
To night's perpetual gloom ; 

The voice of morning ne'er shall break 
The slumbers of the tomb. 

Where are our fathers ? Whither gone 

The mighty men of old ? 
The patriarchs, prophets, princes, kings, 

In sacred books enroll'd ? — 

i( Gone to the resting-place of man, 

The everlasting home, 
Where ages past have gone before, 

Where future ages come." 

Thus Nature pour'd the wail of woe, 
And urg'd her earnest cry ; 

Her voice in agony extreme 
Ascended to the sky. 



THE COMPLAINT OF NATURE. 257 

The Almighty heard them from his throne, 

In majesty he rose, 
And from the heaven, that open'd wide, 

His voice in mercy flows, 

When mortal man resigns his breath 

And falls a clod of clay, 
The soul immortal wings its flight 

To never-setting day. 

Prepared of old for wicked men 

The bed of torment lies, 
The just shall enter into bliss 

Immortal in the skies. 



258 



HEAVENLY WISDOM. 

happy is the man who hears 
Instruction's warning voice, 

And who celestial Wisdom makes 
His early only choice. 

For she has treasures greater far 
Than East or West unfold, 

And her reward is more secure 
Than is the gain of gold. 

In her right hand she holds to view 
A length of happy years "; 

And in her left the prize of fame 
And honour bright appears. 

She guides the young with innocence 
In pleasure's path to tread, 

A crown of glory she bestows 
Upon the hoary head. 

According as her labours rise, 

So her rewards increase, 
Her ways are ways of pleasantness , 

And all her paths are peace. 



-259 



THE MILLENNIUM, 

Behold ! the mountain of the Lord 

In latter days shall rise, 
On mountain tops above the hills 

And draw the wondering eyes. 

To this the joyful nations round, 
All tribes and tongues shall flow ; 

Up to the hill of God, they'll say. 
And to his house we'll go. 

The beam that shines from Zion hill 

Shall lighten every land ; 
The King who reigns in Salem's towr's 

Shall all the world command, 

No strife shall vex Messiah's reign, 

Or mar the peaceful years ; 
To ploughshares men shall beat their swords^ 

To pruning-hooks their spears. 

No longer hosts encountering hosts 

Their millions slain deplore, 
They hang the trumpet in the hall 

And study war no more, 



260 THE MILLENNIUM. 

Come, then — come from every land 
To worship at his shrine, 

And, walking in the light of God, 
With holy beauties shine. 



MISCELLANIES. 



26S 



ALEXIS,* 



A PASTORAL. 



Upon a bank with cowslips covered o'er. 
Where L even's waters break against the shore ; 
What time the village sires in circles talk, 
And youths and maidens take their evening walk ; 
Among the yellow broom Alexis lay, 
And viewed the beauties of the setting day. 

Full well you might observe some inward smart, 
Some secret grief hung heavy at his heart. 
While round the field his sportive lambkins played, 
He raised his plaintive voice, and thus he said : 

:i Begin, my pipe ! a softly mournful strain. 
The parting sun shines yellow on the plain ; 
The balmy west wind breathes along the ground ; 
Their evening sweets the flowers dispense around ; 
The flocks stray bleating o'er the mountain's brow, 
And from the plain the answering cattle low ; 
Sweet chant the feathered tribes on every tree, 
And all things feel the joys of love — but me. 

* By Alexis the poet intends himself. 



264 ALEXIS. 

4C Begin, my pipe ! begin the mournful strain. 
Eumelia meets my kindness with disclaim* 
Oft have I tried her stubborn heart to move. 
And in her icy bosom kindle love ; 
But all in vain. E'er I my love declared, 
With other youths her company I shared ; 
But now she shuns me, hopeless and forlorn, 
And pays my constant passion with her scorn. 

" Begin, my pipe ! the sadly-soothing strain, 
And bring the days of innocence again. 
Well I remember, in the sunny scene 
We ran, we played together on the green. 
Fair in our youth, and wanton in our play, 
We toyed, we sported, the long summers day. 
For her I spoiled the gardens of the Spring, 
And taught the goldfinch on her hand to sing. 
We sat and sung beneath the lovers' tree ; 
One was her look, and it was fixed on me. 

Ci Begin, my pipe ! a melancholy strain. 

A holiday was kept on yonder plain ; 

The feast was spread upon the flowery mead. 

And skilful Thyrsis tuned his vocal reed ; 

Each for the dance selects the nymph he loves, 

And every nymph with smiles her swain approves : 

The setting sun beheld their mirthful glee, 

And left all happy in their love — but me. 

* See tf 35, Life of Bruce. 



ALEXIS. 



265 



iC Begin, my pipe ! a softly mournful strain. 
cruel nymph ! most unhappy swain ! 
To climb the steepy rock's tremendous height, 
And crop its herbage, is the goat's delight ; 
The flowery thyme delights the humming bees, 
And blooming wilds the bleating lambkins please ; 
Daphnis courts Chloe under every tree : 
Eumelia ! you alone have joys for me ! 

"Now cease, my pipe! now cease the mournful strain, 
Lo, yonder comes Eumelia o'er the plain ! 
Till she approach, I'll lurk behind the shade, 
Then try, with all my art, the stubborn maid : 
Though to her lover cruel and unkind, 
Yet time may change the purpose of her mind. — 
But vain these pleasing hopes ! already, see, 
She hath observed, and now she flies from me ! 

" Then cease, my pipe ! the unavailing strain. 
Apollo aids, the Nine inspire, in vain ; 
You, cruel maid ! refuse to lend an ear ; 
No more I sing, since you disdain to hear. 
This pipe Amyntas gave, on which he play'd : 
" Be thou its second lord/' the dying shepherd said,* 

* " Est mihi disparibus septem compacta cicutis 
Fistula, Damoetas dono mihi quam dedit olim 
Et dixit moriens ; Tejnunc habet ista secundum." 

Virgil, Bucolicon ii, 

" Of seven smooth joints a mellow pipe I have, 
Which, with his dying breath, Dam cet as" gave, 



266 AN EPIGRAM. 

No more I play — now silent let it be : 
Nor pipe, nor song, can e'er give joy to me. 5 



AN EPIGRAM. 

With Celia talking, Pray, says I, 

Think you, you could a husband want; 

Or would you rather choose to die 

If Heav'n the blessing should not grant ? 

Awhile the beauteous maid look'd down, 
Then with a blush she thus began : 

" Life is a precious thing I own, 
But what is life — without a man/' 



And said, ' This, Corydon, I leave to thee, 
For only thou deserv'st it after me.' " 

Dryden's Translation, 



267 



DAMON, MENALCAS, AND MELIBCEUS. 

AN ECLOGUE. 
DAMON. 

Mild from the show'r, the morning's rosy light 
Unfolds the beauteous season to the sight ; 
The landscape rises verdant on the view ; 
The little hills uplift their heads in dew, 
The sunny stream rejoices in the vale ; 
The woods with songs approaching summer hail : 
The boy comes forth among the flow'rs to play; 

His fair hair glitters in the yellow ray 

Shepherds, begin the song ! while, o'er the mead, 
Your flocks at will on dewy pastures feed. 
Behold fair Nature, and begin the song ! 
The songs of Nature to the swain belong. 
Who equals Cona's bard in sylvan strains, * 
To him his harp an equal prize remains : 
His harp, which sounds on all its sacred strings 
The loves of hunters, and the wars of kings. 



* Ossian frequently styles himself the " Voice of Cona," 
and his harp sounds little else than " The loves of hunters 
and the wars of kings." Cona, from which the Son of Fingal 
probably took his name, is a small stream running through 
Glencoe in Argyleshire. " The streams of Cona answer to the 
voice of Ossian." 



268 DAMON, MENALCAS, AND MELIBQEUS. 

MENALCAS. 

Now fleecy clouds in clearer skies are seen ; 
The air is genial, and the earth is green : 
O'er hill and dale the flowers spontaneous spring ; 
And blackbirds singing, now invite to sing. 

MELIBCEUS. 

Now milky showers rejoice the springing grain ; 
New-opening pea-blooms purple all the plain ; 
The hedges blossom white on every hand ; 
Already harvest seems to clothe the land. 

MENALCAS. 

White o'er the hill my snowy sheep appear. 

Each with her lamb ; their shepherd's name they bear. 

I love to lead them where the daisies spring, 

And on the sunny hill to sit and sing. 

MELIBCEUS. 

My fields are green with clover and with corn ; 
My flocks the hills, and herds the vales adorn. 
I teach the stream, I teach the vocal shore, 
And woods, to echo — that ' c I want no more/' 

MENALCAS. 

To me the bees their annual nectar yield ; 
Peace cheers my hut, and plenty clothes my field. 
I fear no loss : I give to Ocean's wind 
All care away ; — a monarch in my mind ! 



DAMON, MENALCAS, AND MELIBCEUS* ^9 

MELIB(EUS. 

My mind is cheerful as the linnet's lays ; 
Heaven daily hears a shepherd's simple praise. 
What time I shear my flock, I send a fleece 
To aged Mopsa, and her orphan niece. 

MENALCAS. 

Lavinia, come I here primroses upspring ; 
Here choirs of linnets, here yourself may sing; 
Here meadows worthy of thy foot appear : 
come, Lavinia! let us wander here ! 

MELIBCEUS. 

Rosella, come ! here flow'rs the heath adorn ; 
Here ruddy roses open on the thorn ; 
Here willows by the brook a shadow give : 
here, Rosella ! let us love to live ! 

MENALCAS. 

Lavinia' s fairer than the flow'rs of May, 
Or autumn apples, ruddy in the ray : 
For her my flow'rs are in a garland wove ; 
And all my apples ripen for my love. 

MELIBCEUS. 

Prince of the wood, the oak majestic tow'rs ;* 
The lily of the vale is queen of flow'rs : 



* u Here stands the oak, the monarch of the wood." 

Home's Douglas, 



270 DAMON, MENALCAS, AND MELIBCEUS, 

Above the maids Rosella's charms prevail, 
As oaks in woods, and lilies in the vale !* 

MENALCAS. 

Resound, ye rocks ! ye little hills rejoice ! 
Assenting woods, to Heav'n uplift your voice ! 
Let Spring and Summer enter hand in hand ! 
Lavinia comes ! the glory of our land! 

MELIBCEUS. 

Whene'er my love appears upon the plain, 
To her the wondering shepherds tune the strain : 
iC Who comes in beauty like the vernal morn, 
When yellow robes of light all heav'n and earth adorn.' 

MENALCAS. 

Rosella's mine, by all the pow'rs above ! 
Each star in heav'n is witness to our love. 
Among the lilies she abides all day ; 
Herself as lovely, and as sweet as they, 

MELIBCEUS. 

By Tweed Lavinia feeds her fleecy care, 
And in the sunshine combs her yellow hair. 
Be thine the peace of Heav'n, unknown to kings ! 
And o'er thee angels spread their guardian wings ! 



* " As the lily among the thorns, so is my love among the 
daughters : as the apple-tree among the trees of the wood, m 
is my beloved among the sons." — Canticles iii. 23. 



DAMON, MENALCAS, AND MELIBCEUS. 271 

MENALCAS. 

I folio w'd Nature, and was fond of praise ; 

Thrice noble Varo has approv'd my lays : 

If he approves, superior to my peers, 

I join th' immortal choir, and sing to other years, 

MELIBCEUS. 

My mistress is my muse : the banks of Tyne 
Resound with Nature's music, and with mine, 
Helen the fair, the beauty of our green, 
To me adjudg'd the prize, when chosen queen, 

DAMON. 

Now cease your songs : the flocks to shelter fly^ 
And the high sun has gain'd the middle sky. 
To both alike the poet's bays belong ; 
Chiefs of the choir, and masters of the song. 
Thus let your pipes contend, with rival strife, 
To sing the praises of the pastoral life, 
Sing Nature's scenes, with Nature's beauties fir'd ; 
Where poets dream' d, where prophets lay inspir'd, 
Ev'n Caledonian queens have trod the meads, 
And scepter'd kings assum'd the shepherd's weeds ■ 
Th' angelic choirs, that guard the throne of God, 
Have sat with shepherds on the humble sod* 
With us renew'd, the golden times remain. 
And long-lost innocence is found again. 



272 



PASTORAL SONG. 

To the Tune of a The Yelloio-hair i d Laddie" 

In May when the go wans appear on the green, 
And flowers in the field and the forest are seen ; 
Where lilies bloom' d bonny, and hawthorns upsprung, 
The yellow-hair d laddie oft whistled and sung. 

But neither the shades, nor the sweets of the flow'rs, 
Nor the blackbirds that warbled on blossoming bow'rs. 
Could pleasure his eye, or his ear entertain ; 
For love was his pleasure, and love was his pain. 

The shepherd thus sung ; while his flocks all around 
Drew nearer and nearer, and sigh'd to the sound : 
Around, as in chains, lay the beasts of the wood, 
With pity disarmed, with music subdued. 

i( Young Jessy is fair as the Spring's early flower, 
And Mary sings sweet as the bird in the bow'r : 
But Peggy is fairer and sweeter than they ; 
With looks like the morning, with smiles like the day. 

u In the flower of her youth, in the bloom of eighteen ; 

Of virtue the goddess, of beauty the queen : 

One hour in her presence an era excels 

Amid courts, where ambition with misery dwells. 



PASTORAL SONG. 273 

** Fair to the shepherd the new-springing flow'rs, 
When May and when morning lead on the gay hours : 
But Peggy is brighter and fairer than they ; 
She's fair as the morning, and lovely as May. 

p Sweet to the shepherd the wild woodland sound, 
When larks sing above him, and lambs bleat around : 
But Peggy far sweeter can speak and can sing, 
Than the notes of the warblers that welcome the Spring, 

(c When in beauty she moves by the brook of the plain, 
You would call her a Venus new sprung from the main : 
When she sings, and the woods with their echoes reply, 
You would think that an angel was warbling on high, 

ci Ye pow'rs that preside over mortal estate ! 
Whose nod ruleth nature, whose pleasure is fate ! 
grant me, grant me, the heav'n of her charms ! 
May I live in her presence, and die in her arms !" 



274 



LOCHLEVEN NO MORE.* 

To the Tune of " Loclmber no More." 

Farewell to Lochleven and Gairny's fair stream. 
How sweet, on its banks, of my Peggy to dream : 
But now I must go to a far distant shore, 
And HI may-be return to Lochleven no more. 

No more in the Spring shall I wait with my dear. 
Where go wans bloom bonny, and Gairny runs clear ; 
Far hence must I wander, my pleasures are o'er, 
Since Fll see my dear maid and Lochleven no more. 

No more do I sing, since far from my delight, 
But in sighs spend the day, and in tears the long night ; 
By Devon's dull current stretch'd mourning I'll lie, 
While the hills and the woods to my mourning reply. 

But wherever I wander, by night or by day, 
True love to my Peggy still with me shall stay ; 
And ever and aye my loss I'll deplore, 
Till the woodlands re-echo Lochleven no more. 



* See f 35, Life of Bruce.- 



LOCHLEVEN NO MORE. 2?5 

Though from her far distant, to her Til be true, 
And still my fond heart keep her image in view : 

could I obtain her, my griefs were all o'er, 

1 would mourn the dear maid and Lochleven no more. 

But if Fate has decreed that it ne'er shall be so. 
Then grief shall attend me wherever I go ; 
Till from life's stormy sea I reach death's silent shore, 
Then I'll think upon her and Lochleven no more. 



276 



SIR JAMES THE ROSS* 



AN HISTOBICAL BALLAD. 

Of all the Scottish northern chiefs, 

Of high and mighty name, 
The bravest was Sir James the Ross, 

A knight of meikle fame. 

* This very beautiful ballad was written upon the story of 
an old one of the same name, which is given, as follows, in 
iC Gleanings of Scarce Old Ballads, Peterhead, 1825." It is 
here reprinted from Chambers's Scottish Ballads, 1829. 

iS O heard ye o' Sir James the Rose, 
The young heir o' Buleichan, 
For he has killed a gallant squire, 
Whase friends are out to tak him. 

" Now he's gane to the house o' Mar, 
Whar nane micht seek to find him ; 
To see his dear he did repair, 

Weening she might befriend him. 

" ' Whar are ye gaun, Sir James ?' she said, 
4 O wharawa are ye riding ?' 
6 1 maun be bound to a foreign land, 
And now I'm under hiding. 

" 6 Whar sail I gae, whar sail I rin, 
Whar sail I rin to stay me ? 
For I hae killed a gallant squire, 
And his friends seek to slay me^ 



SIR JAMES THE ROSS. 277 

His growth was like a youthful oak. 
That crowns the mountain's brow, 

And, waving o'er his shoulders broad. 
His locks of yellow flew. 

Wide were his fields ; his herds were large ; 

And large his flocks of sheep ; 
And numerous were his goats and deer 

Upon the mountain-steep. 

" ' O gae ye doun to yon laigh house • 
I sail pay there your lawin ; 
And as I am your leman true, 
I'll meet you at the dawing.' 

" He turned him richt and round about, 
And rowed him in his brechan ; 
And laid him doun to tak a sleep, 
In the lawlands o' Buleichan. 

44 He wasna weel gane out o' sicht, 
Nor was he past Milstrethen, 
When four and twenty beltit knichts 
Cam riding ower the Lethan. 

" ' O hae ye seen Sir James the Hose, 

The young heir o' Buleichan ? 

For he has killed a gallant squire, 

And we are sent to tak him.' 

" 6 Yes, I hae seen Sir James,' she said ; 
6 He passed by here on Monday ; 
Gin the steed be swift that he rides on $ 
He's past the Heichts o' Lundie/ 

" But as wi' speed they rode away, 
She loudly cried behind them, 
6 Gin ye'll gie me a worthy meed 5 
I'll tell ye whar to find him.' 



278 SIR JAMES THE ROSS. 

The chieftain of the good Clan Ross, 

A firm and warlike band : 
Five hundred warriors drew the sword 

Beneath his high command. 

In bloody fight thrice had he stood 

Against the English keen, 
Ere two and twenty opening springs 

The blooming youth had seen. 

" 4 O tell, fair maid, and, on our band, 
Ye'se get his purse and brechan.' 
4 He's in the bank abune the mill. 
In the lawlands o' Buleichan.' 

44 Then out and spak Sir John the Graeme, 
Wha had the charge a-keeping, 
4 It's ne'er be said, my stalwart feres, 
We killed him when a-sleeping.' 

44 They seized his braidsword and his targe, 
And closely him surrounded : 
4 O mercy, mercy, gentlemen V 
He then fu' loudly sounded. 

44 4 Sic as ye gae, sic ye sail hae ; 
On nathingless we reckon.' 
4 Donald, my man, wait till I fa', 

And ye sail get my brechan : 
Ye'll get my purse, though fu' o' gowd, 
To tak me to Loch Lagan.' 

44 Syne they took out his bleeding heart, 
And set it on a speir ; 
Then took it to the house o' Mar, 
And showed it to his deir. 

44 4 We couldna gie ye Sir James's purse. 
Nor yet could we his brechan ; 



SIR JAMES THE ROSS. 21$ 

The fair Matilda dear he lov'd, 

A maid of beauty rare ; 
Ev'n Margaret on the Scottish throne 

Was never half so fair. 

Long had he woo'd ; long she refused 

With seeming scorn and pride ; 
Yet oft her eyes confess'd the love 

Her fearful words denied. 

At length she bless' d his well-tried love. 

Allowed his tender claim : 
She vow'd to him her virgin heart, 

And own'd an equal flame. 

Her father, Buehan's cruel lord, 

Their passion disapprov'd : 
He bade her wed Sir John the Graeme, 

And leave the youth she lov'd. 

4 But ye sail hae his bleeding heart, 
But and his bloody tartan. ' 

" ' Sir James the Rose, Oh, for thy sake, 
My heart is now a-breaking ; 
Cursed be the day I wrocht thy wae, 
Thou brave heir o' Buleichan.' 

" Then up she rase, and furth she gaes ; 
And, in that hour o' tein,* 
She wandered to the dowie glen, 
And never mair was seen." 



* Excessive Grief. 



280 SIR JAMES THE ROSS. 

One night they met, as they were wont, 

Deep in a shady wood ; 
Where on the bank, beside the burn, 

A blooming saugh-tree stood. 

Conceal' d among the underwood 

The erafty Donald lay. 
The brother of Sir John the Graeme, 

To watch what they might say. 

When thus the maid began : (C My sire 

Our passion disapproves, 
He bids me wed Sir John the Grseme ; 

So here must end our loves. 

iC My father's will must be obey'd, 
Nought boots me to withstand : 

Some fairer maid, in beauty's bloom., 
Shall bless thee with her hand. 

c< Soon will Matilda be forgot 
And from thy mind effaced ; 

But may that happiness be thine, 
Which I can never taste !>' — 

" What do I hear ? Is this thy vow V 
(Sir James the Ross replied) 

u And will Matilda wed the Grseme, 
Though sworn to be my bride. ? 



SIR JAMES THE ROSS. 281 

" His sword shall sooner pierce my heart, 
Than 'reave me of thy charms" — 

And clasp'd her to his throbbing breast, 
Fast lock'd within her arms. 

" I spoke to try thy love," she said ; 

" 111 ne'er wed man but thee : 
The grave shall be my bridal bed, 

If Graeme my husband be. 

6i Take then, dear youth ! this faithful kiss > 

In witness of my troth ; 
And every plague become my lot 

That day I break my oath/' — — 

They parted thus — the sun was set : 

Up hasty Donald flies ; 
And, " Turn thee, turn thee, beardless youth T : 

He loud insulting cries. 

Soon turn d about the fearless chief, 

And soon his sword he drew ; 
For Donald's blade before his breast 

Had piere'd his tartans through. 

" This for my brother's slighted love : 

His wrongs sit on my arm." — 
Three paces back the youth retired,. 

And saved himself from harm. 



282 SIR JAMES THE ROSS. 

Returning swift, his sword he rear'd 

Fierce Donald's head above : 
And through the brain and crashing bone 

The furious weapon drove. 

Life issued at the wound ; he fell 

A lump of lifeless clay : 
'• So fall my foes/' quoth valiant Ross, 

And stately strode away. 

Through the green wood in haste he passed 

Unto Lord Buchan s hall : 
Beneath Matilda's windows stood, 

And thus on her did call : 

" Art thou asleep, Matilda fair ! 

Awake, my love ! awake : 
Behold thy lover waits without, 

A long farewell to take. 

" For I have slain fierce Donald Graeme, 

His blood is on my sword : 
And far, far distant are my men, 

Nor can defend their lord. 

" To Skye I will direct my flight, 
Where my brave brothers bide ; 

And raise the mighty of the Isles 
To combat on my side/' — 



SIR JAMES THE ROSS. 283 

" do not so," the maid replied, 

u With me till morning stay ; 
For dark and dreary is the night, 

And dangerous is the way. 

" All night I'll watch thee in the park ; 

My faithful page HI send 
In haste to raise the brave Clan Ross, 

Their master to defend/' 

He laid him down beneath a bush, 

And wrapp'd him in his plaid ; 
While, trembling for her lover's fate, 

At distance stood the maid. — 

Swift ran the page o'er hill and dale, 

Till, in a lowly glen, 
He met the furious Sir John Graeme, 

With twenty of his men. 

4i Where goest thou, little page?" he said, 

" So late who did thee send ?" — 
:c I go to raise the brave Clan Ross, 

Their master to defend. 

" For he has slain fierce Donald Graeme. 

His blood is on his sword ; 
And far, far distant are his men, 

Nor can assist their lord." — 



284 SIR JAMES THE ROSS. 

u And has he slain my brother dear ?" 

The furious chief replies : 
Dishonour blast my name, but he 

By me ere morning dies. 

(i Say, page ! where is Sir James the Ross ? 

I will thee well reward/' — 
" He sleeps into Lord Buchans park ; 

Matilda is his guard."— 

They spurr'd their steeds, and furious flew. 

Like light'ning, o'er the lea : 
They reached Lord Buchan's lofty towers 

By dawning of the day. 

Matilda stood without the gate, 

Upon a rising ground, 
And watch'd each object in the dawn, 

All ear to every sound. 

a Where sleeps the Ross V 3 began the Graeme, 

" Or has the felon fled ? 
This hand shall lay the wretch on earth 

By whom my brother bled." 

And now the valiant knight awoke, 

The virgin shrieking heard : 
Straight up he rose, and drew his sword, 

When the fierce band appear'd. 



SIR JAMES THE ROSS, 2 

CK Your sword last night my brother slew. 

His blood yet dims its shine ; 
And, ere the sun shall gild the morn, 

Your blood shall reek on mine." 

u Your words are brave/' the chief returned ; 

But deeds approve the man : 
Set by your men, and hand to hand 

We'll try what valour can." 

With dauntless step he forward strode. 

And dar'd him to the fight : 
The Graeme gave back, and fear'd his arrm 

For well he knew his might. 

Four of his men, the bravest four, 

Sunk down beneath his sword ; 
But still he scom'd the poor revenge, 

And sought their haughty lord. 

Behind him basely came the Graeme, 

And pierc'd him in the side : 
Out spouting came the purple stream, 

And all his tartans dy'd. 

But yet his hand not dropp'd the sword. 

Nor sunk he to the ground, 
Till through his enemy's heart his steel 

Had forc'd a mortal wound. 



286 SIR JAMES THE ROSS. 

Graeme, like a tree by winds o'erthrown, 
Fell breathless on the clay ; 

And down beside him sunk the Ross, 
And faint and dying lay. 

Matilda saw, and fast she ran : 
" spare his life," she cried ; 

" Lord Buchan's daughter begs his life, 
Let her not be denied." 

Her well-known voice the hero heard ; 

He rais'd his death-closed eyes; 
He fix'd them on the weeping maid, 

And weakly thus replies : 

cc In vain Matilda begs a life 

By death's arrest denied ; 
My race is run — adieu, my love I" 

Then closed his eyes, and died. 

The sword, yet warm, from his left side. 
With frantic hand she drew : 

" I come, Sir James the Ross/' she cried, 
iC I come to follow you." 

The hilt she lean'd against the ground, 
And bared her snowy breast ; 

Then fell upon her lover's face, 
And sunk to endless rest. 



287 



THE EAGLE, CROW, AND SHEPHERD.* 

A FABLE. 

Beneath the horror of a rock, 
A shepherd careless fed his flock. 
Souse from its top an eagle came. 
And seiz'd upon a sporting lamb ; 
Its tender sides its talons tear, 
And bear it bleating through the air. 

This was discovered by a crow, 

Who hopt upon the plain below. 

" Yon ram/' says he, (i becomes my prey ;" 

And, mounting, hastens to the fray ; 

Lights on his back — when lo, ill-luck ! 

He in the fleece entangled stuck : 

He spreads his wings, but can't get free. 

Struggling in vain for liberty. 

The shepherd soon the captive spies, 

And soon he seizes en the prize. 

His children, curious, crowd around, 

And ask what strange fowl he has found \ 

(C My sons/' said he, i( warn'd by this wretch, 

Attempt no deed above your reach : 

An eagle not an hour ago, 

He's now content to be a crow." 

* For the occasion of this Fable, see fj" 25, Life of Bruce, 



288 



THE MUSIAD i 

A MINOR EPIC POEM. 
A Fragment. In the manner of Homer. 

In ancient times, ere traps were framed, 
Or cats in Britain's isle were known : 

A mouse, for power and valour famed. 
Possessed in peace the regal throne. 

A farmer's house he nightly stormed ; 

(In vain were bolts, in vain were keys) ; 
The milk's fair surface he deformed, 

And digged entrenchments in the cheese. 

In vain the farmer watched by night, 
In vain he spread the poisoned bacon ; 

The mouse was wise, as well as wight, 
Nor could by force or fraud be taken. 

His subjects followed where he led, 
And dealt destruction all around; 

His people, shepherd-like, he fed : 
Such mice are rarely to be found ! — 



MUSIAD. 289 

But evil fortune had decreed 

(The foe of mice as well as men) 
The royal mouse at last should bleed ; 

Should fall — ne'er to arise again. 

Upon a night, as authors say, 

A luckless scent our hero drew, 
Upon forbidden ground to stray, 

And pass a narrow cranny thro'. 

That night a feast the farmer made, 
And joy unbounded filled the house ; 

The fragments in the pantry spread 
Afforded business to the mouse. 

He ate his fill, and back again 
Returned : but access was denied. 

He searched each corner ; but in vain : 
He found it close on every side. 

Let none our hero's fears deride ; 

He roared (ten mice of modern days, 
As mice are dwindled and decayed, 

So great' a voice could scarcely raise.) 

Roused at the voice, the farmer ran, 
And seized upon his hapless prey. 

With entreaties the mouse began, 
And prayers, his anger to allay. 



290 MUSIAD. 

" spare my life I" he trembling cries : 
" My subjects will a ransom give, 

" Large as thy wishes can devise, 
" Soon as it shall be heard I live/' 

" No, wretch I" the farmer says in wrath ; 

ci Thou diest : no ransom I'll receive." — 
" My subjects will revenge my death," 

He said : " This dying charge I leave.''" 

The farmer lifts his armed hand, 
And on the mouse inflicts a wound. 

What mouse could such a blow withstand ? 
He fell and dying bit the ground. 

Thus Lambris fell, who flourished long 
(I half forgot to tell his name) ; 

But his renown lives in the song, 

And future times shall speak his fame. — ■ 

A mouse, who walked about at large 
In safety, heard his mournful cries ; 

He heard him give his dying charge, 
And to the rest he frantic flies. 

Thrice he essayed to speak, and thrice 
Tears, such as mice may shed, fell down : 

" Revenge your monarch's death/' he cries : 
His voice half-stifled with a groan. 



MUSIAD. 291 

But having re-assumed his senses 
And reason, such as mice may have, 

He told out all the circumstances, 

With many a strain and broken heave. 

Chilled with sad grief the assembly heard; 

Each dropped a tear, and bowed the head : 
But symptoms soon of rage appeared, 

And vengeance, for their royal dead. 

Long sat they mute : at last uprose 
The great Hypenor, blameless sage ! 

A hero bom to many woes ; 

His head was silvered o'er with age. 

His bulk so large, his joints so strong, 

Though worn with grief, and past his prime. 

Few rats could ec^ual him, 'tis sung. 
As rats are in these dregs of time. 

Two sons, in battle brave, he had, 
Sprung from fair Lalage's embrace : 

Short time they graced his nuptial bed, 
By dogs destroyed in cruel chase. 

Their timeless fate the mother wailed, 

And pined with heart-corroding grief: 
O'er every comfort it prevailed, 

Till death advancing brought relief. 



292 MUSIAD. 

Now he's the last of all his race, 
A prey to woe, he inly pined : 

Grief pictured sat upon his face ; 
Upon his breast his head reclined. 

And, " my fellow-mice !" he said, 
" These eyes ne'er saw a day so dire, 

(< Save when my gallant children bled : 
" wretched sons ! wretched sire ! 

66 But now a general cause demands 
" Our grief, and claims our tears alone ; 

et Our monarch, slain by wicked hands : 
cc No issue left to fill the throne. 

iC Yet, tho' by hostile man much wronged, 
ee My counsel is, from arms forbear, 

" That so your days may be prolonged ; 
" For man is heaven's peculiar care." 



293 



ANACREONTIC: 

TO A WASP. 

The fcttowing is a ludicrous imitation of the usual Anacreontics ; 
the spirit of composing which twos raging, a few yea/rs ago, 
among aU the sweet singers of Great Britain. 

Winged wanderer of the sky ! 
Inhabitant of heaven high ! 
Dreadful with thy dragon-tail, 
Hydra-head, and coat of mail ! 
Why dost thou my peace molest ? 
Why dost thou disturb my rest ?— — 
When in May the meads are seen, 
Sweet enamel ! white and green; 
And the gardens, and the bowers, 
And the forests, and the flowers, 
Don their robes of curious dye ; 
Fine confusion to the eye ! 

Did I chase thee in thy flight ? 

Did I put thee in a fright ? 

Did I - spoil thy treasure hid ? 
Never — never — never — did. 
Envious nothing ! pray beware ; 
Tempt mine anger if you dare. 



294 ANACREONTIC. 

Trust not in thy strength of wing ; 

Trust not in thy length of sting. 

Heaven nor earth shall thee defend ; 

I thy buzzing soon will end. 

Take my counsel while you may ; 

Devil take you if you stay. 

Wilt — thou — dare — my — face — to — wound ? 

Thus, I fell thee to the ground. 

Down amongst the dead men, now, 

Thou shalt forget thou ere wast thou. — - 

Anacreontic bards beneath, 

Thus shall wail thee after death : 

CHORUS OF ELYSIAN BARDS. 

i€ A wasp for a wonder, 
To paradise under 
Descends ! See, he wanders 
By Styx's meanders ! 
Behold how he glows 
Amidst Rhodope's snows ! * 
He sweats, in a trice, 
In the regions of ice ! 
Lo ! he cools, by God's ire, 
Amidst brimstone and fire ! 
He goes to our king, 
And he shews him his sting. 



" Now with furies surrounded, 
Despairing, confounded ; 
He trembles, he glows, 
Amidst Rhodope's snows." 

Pope's Ode to St Cecilia's Day, 



ANACREONTIC* 295 

(Good Pluto loves satire, 

As women love attire) ; 

Our king sets him free, 

Like fam'd Euridice. — 

Thus a wasp could prevail 

O'er the Devil and hell, 
A conquest both hard and laborious ! 

Tho' hell had fast bound him, 

And the Devil did confound him, 
Yet his sting and his wing were victorious."* 



* " Thus song could prevail 

O'er death and o'er hell ; 
A conquest how hard and how glorious ! 

Though Fate had fast bound her 

With Styx nine times round her, 
Yet Music and Love were victorious.'" 

Pope's Ode to St Cecilia's Day* 



296 



TO 

JOHN MILLAR, M.D.* 

ON RECOVERY FROM A DANGEROUS FIT OF ILLNESS. 
( Written in the name of Mr David Pearson.) 

A rustic youth (he seeks no better name) 
Alike unknown to fortune and to fame, 
Acknowledging a debt he ne'er can pay, 
For thee, Millar ! frames the artless lay : 



* Dr Millar was a surgeon in Kirkaldy, twelve miles from 
Kinnesswood, whence he had come repeatedly to visit David 
Pearson, who had an ulcer in his leg, and whose poverty pre- 
vented him from giving this skilful physician his well-earned 
remuneration. Pearson applied to his friend Bruce to express 
his acknowledgments in verse, which he did. The above is 
only a small part of the letter of thanks taken down by Mr 
Birrel, according as Pearson was able to repeat it. The ori- 
ginal was given by Pearson into Logan's own hand. It ended 
with the following lines : — 

" For tuneful Garth is gone, and mighty Mead, 
Pope's Arbuthnot lies slumbering with the dead ; 
And when at last (far distant be the day) 
Remorseless death shall mark thee for his prey* 
May thy free spirit mount the climes above, 
And join thy consort in the land of love." 



TO JOHN MILLAR, M. D. 297 

That yet he lives, that vital warmth remains, 
And life's red tide bounds briskly thro' his veins ; 
To thee he owes. His grateful heart believe, 
And take his thanks sincere, 'tis all he has to give, 
Let traders brave the flood in thirst of gain, 
Kept with disquietude as got with pain ; 
Let heroes, tempted by a sounding name, 
Pursue bright honour in the fields of fame. 
Can wealth or fame a moment's ease command 
To him, who sinks beneath afflictions hand ? 
Upon the wither'd limbs fresh beauty shed ; 
Or cheer the dark, dark mansions of the dead ? 



29S 



VERSES 



ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. WM. M f EWEN.* 



M'Ewen gone ! and shall the mournful Muse 

A tear unto his memory refuse ? 

Forbid it all ye powers that guard the just, 

Your care his actions, and his life your trust. 

The righteous perish ! is M'Ewen dead ? 

In him Religion, Virtue's friend, is fled. 

Modest in strife, bold in religion's cause, 

He sought true honour in his God's applause. 

What manly beauties in his works appear, 

Close without straining, and concise though clear. 

Though short his life,t not so his deathless fame, 

Succeeding ages shall revere his name. 

Hail, blest immortal, hail ! while we are tost, 

Thy happy soul is landed on the coast, 

That land of bliss, where on the peaceful shore 

Thou view'st with pleasure, all thy dangers o'er ; 

Laid in the silent grave, thy honoured dust 

Expects the resurrection of the just. 



* Author of " A Treatise on the Scripture Types, Figures, 
and Allegories," and " Essays on various subjects." 

+ Mr M'Ewen died suddenly at Leith, in the 28th year of 
his age, and 7th of his ministry. 



299 



P t HILOCLES:* 

AN ELEGY, ON THE DEATH OF MR WILLIAM DRYBURGH. 

Wailing, I sit on Leven's sandy shore, 
And sadly tune the reed to sounds of woe ; 

Once more I call Melpomene ! once more 

Spontaneous teach the weeping verse to flow ! 

The weeping verse shall flow in friendship's name, 
Which friendship asks, and friendship fain would pay; 

The weeping verse, which worth and genius claim. 
Begin then, Muse ! begin thy mournful lay. 

Aided by thee, 111 twine a rustic wreath 

Of fairest flow'rs, to deck the grass-grown grave 

Of Philocles, cold in the bed of death, 

And mourn the gentle youth I could not save. 

Where lordly Forth divides the fertile plains, 
With ample sweep, a sea from side to side, 

A rocky bound his raging course restrains, 
For ever lashed by the resounding tide. 



See ^23, Life of Bruce. 



300 PHILOCLES. 

There stands his tomb upon the sea-beat shore,* 
Afar discerned by the rough sailor's eye, 

Who, passing, weeps, and stops the sounding oar, 
And points where piety and virtue lie. 

Like the gay palm on Rabbah's fair domains, 
Or cedar shadowing Carmel's flowery side ; 

Or, like the upright ash on Britain's plains, 

Which waves its stately arms in youthful pride : 

So flourished Philocles : and as the hand 

Of ruthless woodman lays their honours low,t 

He fell in youth's fair bloom by fate's command. 
'Twas fate that struck, 'tis ours to mourn the blow. 



* " His remains lie on the south side, and near the top of 
the west burying-ground in this parish. The spot is marked 
by a neat and rather handsome stone, which does not, how- 
ever, seem to have been erected to his memory, as the in- 
scription relating to his father occupies the front and princi- 
pal part of the stone, while that relating to himself and a half 
brother, whose name was Lister, a minister of the Secession 
in Dundee, occupies the back, and was probably put on at a 
later period than the other." — Letter from W. A. Pettigrew, 
Dysart, to the Editor, 

•f- M Ac veluti summis antiquam in montibus ornum, 
Cum ferro accisam crebrisque bipennibus, instant 
Eruere agricolse certatim : ilia usque minatur, 
Et tremefacta comam, concusso vertice, nutat." 

Virgil, JEneidIL 
" Rent like a mountain ash, which dar'd the winds, 
And stood the sturdy strokes of lab'ring hinds. 



PHILOCLES. 301 

Alas ! we fondly thought that heaven designed 
His bright example mankind to improve : 

All they should be, was pictured in his mind ; 
His thoughts were virtue, and his heart was love. 

Calm as a summer's sun's unruffled face, 

He looked unmoved on life's precarious game, 

And smiled at mortals toiling in the chase 
Of empty phantoms — opulence and fame. 

Steady he followed Virtue's onward path, 

Inflexible to Error's devious way ; 
And firm at last, in hope and fixed faith, 

Thro' Death's dark vale he trod without dismay. 

The gloomy vale he trod, relentless Death ! 

Where waste and horrid desolation reign. 
The tyrant, humbled, there resigns his wrath ; 

The wretch, elated, there forgets his pain : 

There sleep the infant, and the hoary head ; 

Together lie the oppressor and the oppressed ; 
There dwells the captive, free among the dead ; 

There Philocles, and there the weary rest. 



About the roots the cruel axe resounds: 
The stumps are pierc'd with oft repeated wounds, 
The war is felt on high, the nodding crown 
Now threats a fall, and throws the leafy honours down.' 

Dryden's Translation. 



302 PHILOGLES. 

The curtains of the grave fast drawn around, 
'Till the loud trumpet wakes the sleep of death. 

With dreadful clangour through the world resound, 
Shake the firm globe, and burst the vaults beneathJ 

Then Philocles shall rise, to glory rise, 
And his Redeemer for himself shall see ; 

With him in triumph mount the azure skies : 
For where He is, his followers shall be. 

Whence then these sighs ? and whence this falling tear ? 

To sad remembrance of his merit just, 
Still must I mourn, for he to me was dear, 

And still is dear, though buried in the dust, 



303 



DAPHNIS:* 



A MONODY. 



TO THE MEMORY OF MR WILLIAM ARNOT, SON OF MR 
DAVID ARNOT OF P0RTM0AK, NEAR KINROSS. 

No more of youthful joys, or love's fond dreams, 

No more of morning fair, or ev'ning mild, 

While Daphnis lies among the silent dead 

Unsung ; though long ago he trode the path, 

The dreary road of death, 

Which soon or late each human foot must tread. 

He trode the dark uncomfortable wild 

By faith's pure light, by hope's heaven-op'ning beams ; 

By love, whose image gladdens mortal eyes, 

And keeps the golden key that opens all the skies. 

Assist ye Muses ! — and ye will assist : 

For Daphnis, whom I sing, to you was dear : 

Ye loved the boy, and on his youthful head 

Your kindest influence shed. — 

So may I match his lays, who to the lyre 

Wailed his lost Lycidas by wood and rill : 

* See IT 15, Life of Bruce. 



304 DAPHNIS. 

So may the muse my groVling mind inspire 

To sing a farewell to thy ashes blest ; 

To bid fair peace be to thy gentle shade ; 

To scatter flowerets, cropt by Fancy's hand, 

In sad assemblage round thy tomb, 

If watered by the Muse, to latest time to bloom. 

Oft by the side of Leven's crystal lake, 

Trembling beneath the closing lids of light, 

With slow short-measured steps we took our walk : 

Then he would talk 

Of argument far, far above his years ; 

Then he. would reason high, 

Till from the east the silver queen of night 

Her journey up heaven's steep began to make, 

And Silence reigned attentive in the sky. 

happy days ! — for ever, ever gone ! 

When o'er the flowery green we ran, we played 

With blooms bedropt by youthful Summer's hand : 

Or, in the willow- shade, 

We mimic castles built among the sand, 

Soon by the sounding surge to be beat down, 

Or sweeping winds ; when, by the sedgy marsh, 

We heard the heron and the wild duck harsh, 

And sweeter lark tune his melodious lay, 

At highest noon of day. 

Among the antic moss-grown stones we'd roam, 

With ancient hieroglyphic figures graced; 

Winged hour-glasses, bones, and skulls, and spades, 



DAPHNIS. 305 

And obsolete inscriptions by the hands 

Of other ages. Ah ! I little thought 

That we then played o'er his untimely tomb !* 

Where were ye, Muses ! when the leaden hand 
Of Death, remorseless, closed your Daphnk' eyes ? 
For sure ye heard the weeping mother's cries ; — 
But the dread power of Fate what can withstand ? 
Young Daphnis smiled at Death ; the tyrant's darts 
As stubble counted. What was his support ? 
His conscience, and firm trust in Him whose ways 
Are truth ; in Him who sways 
His potent sceptre o'er the dark domains 
Of death and hell ; who holds in straitened reins 
Their banded legions ; " Through the darksome vale 
<e He'll guide my trembling steps with heavenly ray ; 
<f I see the dawning of immortal day/' 
He, smiling, said, and died ! — 

Hail, and farewell, blest youth ! Soon hast thou left 
This evil world. Fair was thy thread of life : 
But quickly by the envious Sisters shorn. 
Thus have I seen a rose with rising morn 
Unfold its glowing bloom, sweet to the smell, 
And lovely to the eye ; when a keen wind 



* The farm of Portmoak stands on the margin of Lochleven. 
The parish church formerly stood beside it, and a portion of 
the old burying-ground still remains in which young Arnot is 
interred. 



306 DAPHNIS. 

Hath torn its blushing leaves, and laid it low, 
Stripped of its sweets — Ah ! so, 
So Daphnis fell ! long ere his prime he fell ! 
Nor left he on these plains his peer behind ; * 
These plains, that mourn their loss, of him bereft 
No more look gay, but desert and forlorn. 

Now cease your lamentations, shepherds ! cease : 

Though Daphnis died below, he lives above; 

A better life, and in a fairer clime, 

He lives.t No sorrow enters that blest place ; 

But ceaseless songs of love and joy resound : 

And fragrance floats around, 

By fanning zephyrs from the spicy groves, 

And flowers immortal wafted; asphodel 

And amaranth, unfading, deck the ground, 

With fairer colours than, ere Adam fell, 

In Eden bloomed. There, haply he may hear 

This artless song. Ye powers of verse ! improve., 

And make it worthy of your darling's ear, 

And make it equal to the shepherd's love. 

* " For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime ; 
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer." 

Milton's Lycidas. 

f " Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more, 
For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead. 
Sunk though he he beneath the wat'ry floor. 

So Lycidas sunk low, hut mounted high 
Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves*" 

Ibid, 



DAPHNIS. SO? 

Thus, in the shadow of a frowning rock, 
Beneath a mountain's side, shaggy and hoar, 
A homely swain, tending his little flock, 
Rude, yet a lover of the Muse's lore, 
Chanted his Doric strain till close of day ; 
Then rose, and homeward slowly bent his way.* 

* * He touch'd the tender stops of various quills 
With eager thought, warbling his Doric lay ; 
And now the sun had stretchM out all the hills, 
And now was dropt into the western bay : 
At last he rose, and stretch'd his mantle blue, 
To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new." 

Milton's Lycidas* 



308 



ELEGY; 

WRITTEN IN SPRING.* 

Tis past : the iron North has spent his rage ; 

Stern Winter now resigns the lengthening day ; 
The stormy howlings of the winds assuage, 

And warm o'er ether western breezes play. 

Of genial heat and cheerful light the source, 
From southern climes, beneath another sky, 

The sun, returning, wheels his golden course : 
Before his beams all noxious vapours fly. 

Far to the north grim Winter draws his train, 
To his own clime, to Zembla's frozen shore ; 

Where, thron'd on ice, he holds eternal reign ; 

Where whirlwinds madden, and where tempests roar. 

Loos'd from the bands of frost, the verdant ground 
Again puts on her robe of cheerful green, 

Again puts forth her flowers ; and all around, 
Smiling, the cheerful face of spring is seen. 

Behold ! the trees new-deck their wither'd boughs ; 
Their ample leaves, the hospitable plane, 

* See f* 47 Life of Bruce, 



ELEGY j WRITTEN IN SPRING. 309 

The taper elm, and lofty ash, disclose ; 

The blooming hawthorn variegates the scene, 

The lily of the vale, of flow'rs the queen, 
Puts on the robe she neither sew'd nor spun : 

The birds on ground, or on the branches green, 
Hop to and fro, and glitter in the sun. 

Soon as o'er eastern hills the morning peers, 
From her low nest the tufted lark upsprings : 

And, cheerful singing, up the air she steers ; 

Still high she mounts, still loud and sweet she sings. 

On the green furze, cloth'd o'er with golden blooms 
That fill the air with fragrance all around, 

The linnet sits, and tricks his glossy plumes, 
While o'er the wild his broken notes resound. 

While the sun journeys down the western sky, 

Along the green sward, mark'd with Roman mound, 

Beneath the blithsome shepherd's watchful eye, 
The cheerful lambkins dance and frisk around. 

Now is the time for those who wisdom love, 
Who love to walk in Virtue's flow'ry road, 

Along the lovely paths of spring to rove, 
And follow Nature up to Nature's God.* 

* " Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, 
But looks thro' Nature up to Nature's God." 

Pope's Essay on Man. 



310 ELEGY ; WRITTEN IN SPRING. 

Thus Zoroaster studied Nature's laws ; 

Thus Socrates, the wisest of mankind ; 
Thus heav'n-taught Plato trac'd th' Almighty cause. 

And left the wondering multitude behind. 

Thus Ashley gathered academic bays ; 

Thus gentle Thomson, as the seasons roll, 
Taught them to sing the great Creator's praise, 

And bear their poet's name from pole to pole. 

Thus have I walkM along the dewy lawn ; 

My frequent foot the blooming wild hath worn ; 
Before the lark I've sung the beauteous dawn, 

And gather'd health from all the gales of morn. 

And, ev'n when Winter chilFd the aged year, 
I wander'd lonely o'er the hoary plain : 

Tho' frosty Boreas warn'd me to forbear, 

Boreas, with all his tempests-, warn'd in vain. 

Then, sleep my nights, and quiet bless'd my days ; 

I fear'd no loss, my Mind was all my store ; 
No anxious wishes e'er disturb' d my ease ; 

Heav'n gave content and health — I ask'd no more, 

Now, Spring returns : but not to me returns* 
The vernal joy my better years have known ; 

* " With the year 
Seasons return, but not to me returns 
Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn.'" 

Milton on his own blmdne&$> 



elegy; written in spring. 311 

Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, 
And all the joys of life with health are flown. 

Starting and shiv'ring in th' inconstant wind, 
Meagre and pale, the ghost of what I was, 

Beneath some blasted tree I lie reclin d, 

And count the silent moments as they pass : 

The winged moments, whose unstaying speed 
No art can stop, or in their course arrest ; 

Whose flight shall shortly count me with the dead. 
And lay me down in peace with them at rest. 

Oft morning-dreams presage approaching fate ; 

And morning-dreams, as poet's tell, are true.* 
Led by pale ghosts, I enter Death's dark gate, 

And bid the realms of light and life adieu. 

I hear the helpless wail, the shriek of wo ; 

I see the muddy wave, the dreary shore, 
The sluggish streams that slowly creep below, 

Which mortals visit, and return no more. 



* " Atqui, ego cum Grascos facerem, natus mare citra, 
Versiculos, vetuit me tali voce Quiriims 
Post mediam noctem visus, cum somnia vera." 

Horace, Sermonum L Satira x. 
** Italian born, I once proposed to write 
Some Grecian versicals, in deep of night, 
When dreams, they say, are true." 

Francis, Translation, 



312 ELEGY ; WRITTEN IN SPRING. 

Farewell, ye blooming fields ! ye cheerful plains ! 

Enough for me the church-yard's lonely mound, 
Where melancholy with still silence reigns, 

And the rank grass waves o'er the cheerless ground. 

There let me wander at the shut of eve, 

When sleep sits dewy on the labourer's eyes : 

The world and all its busy follies leave, 

And talk with Wisdom where my Daphnis lies. 

There let me sleep forgotten in the clay, 

When death shall shut these weary aching eyes ; 

Rest in the hopes of an eternal day, 

Till the long night is gone, and the last morn arise. 



313 



ECLOGUE. 

IN THE MANNER OF OSSIAN. 

come, my love ! from thy echoing hill ; thy locks 
on the mountain wind ! 

The hill-top flames with setting light ; the vale is 
bright with the beam of eve. Blithe on the village 
green the maiden milks her cows. The boy shouts in 
the wood, and wonders who talks from the trees. But 
Echo talks from the trees, repeating his notes of joy. 
Where art thou, Morna ! thou fairest among women ? 
I hear not the bleating of thy flock, nor thy voice in 
the wind of the hilL Here is the field of our loves ; 
now is the hour of thy promise. See, frequent from 
the harvest -field the reapers eye the setting sun : but 
thou appearest not on the plain. 

Daughters of the bow ! saw ye my love, with her 
little flock tripping before her ? Saw ye her, fair 
moving over the heath, and waving her locks behind 
like the yellow sun-beams of evening ? 

Come from the hill of clouds, fair dweller of woody 
Lumon ! 



31 4 ECLOGUE. 

I was a boy when I went to Lumon's lovely vale. 
Sporting among the willows of the brook, I saw the 
daughters of the plain. Fair were their faces of youth ; 
but mine eye was fixed on Morna. Red was her cheek ; 
and fair her hair. Her hand was white as the lily. 
Mild was the beam of her blue eye, and lovely as the 
last smile of the sun. Her eye met mine in silence. 
Sweet were our words together in secret. I little knew 
what meant the heavings of my bosom,, and the wild 
wish of my heart. I often looked back upon Lumon's 
vale, and blest the fair dwelling of Morna. Her name 
dwelt ever on my lip. She came to my dream by 
night. Thou didst come in thy beauty, maid ! lovely 
as the ghost of Malvina, when* clad with the robes of 
heaven, she came to the vale of the Moon, to visit the 
aged eyes of Ossian king of harps. 

Come from the cloud of night, thou first of our 
maidens! come 

The wind is down; the sky is clear ; red is the cloud 
of evening. In circles the bat wheels over head ; the 
boy pursues his flight. The farmer hails the signs of 
heaven, the promise of halcyon days : Joy brightens 
in his eyes. Morna, first of maidens ! thou art the 
joy of Salgar ! thou art his one desire ! I wait thy 
coming on the field. Mine eye is over all the plain. 
One echo spreads on every side. It is the shout of the 
shepherds folding their flocks. They call to their com- 
panions, each on his echoing hill. From the red cloud 



ECLOGUE. 315 

rises the evening star. — But who comes yonder in light,, 
like the Moon the queen of heaven ? It is she ! the 
star of stars ! the lovely light of Lumon ! Welcome, 
fair beam of beauty, for ever to shine in our vallies ! 

MORNA. 

I come from the hill of clouds. Among the green 
rushes of Balva's bank, I follow the steps of my be- 
loved. The foal in the meadow frolics round the mare : 
his bright mane dances on the mountain wind. The 
leverets play among the green ferns, fearless of the 
hunter's horn, and of the bounding greyhound. The 
last strain is up in the wood. — Did I hear the voice of 
my love ? It was the gale that sports with the whirl- 
ing leaf, and sighs in the reeds of the lake. Blessed be 
the voice of winds that brings my Salgar to mind. 
Saigar ! youth of the rolling eye ! thou art the love of 
maidens ! Thy face is a sun to thy friends : thy words 
are sweet as a song : thy steps are stately on thy hill : 
thou art comely in the brightness of youth ; like the 
Moon, when she puts off her dun robe in the sky, and 
brightens the face of night. The clouds rejoice on either 
side : the traveller in the narrow path beholds her, 
round, in her beauty moving through the midst of 
heaven. Thou art fair, youth of the rolling eye ! 
thou wast the love of my youth. 

SALGAR. 

Fair wanderer of evening ! pleasant be thy rest on 
our plains. I was gathering nuts in the wood for my 



316 ECLOGUE. 

love, and the days of our youth returned to mind ; I 
when we played together on the green, and flew over I 
the field with feet of wind. I tamed the blackbird for 
my love, and taught it to sing in her hand. I climbed 
the ash in the cliff of the rock, and brought you the 
doves of the wood. 

MORN A. 

It is the voice of my beloved ! Let me behold him 
from the wood-covered vale, as he sings of the times 
of old, and complains to the voice of the rock. Pleasant 
were the days of our youth, like the songs of other 
years. Often have we sat on the old grey stone, and 
silent marked the stars, as one by one they stole into 
the sky. One was our wish by day, and one our dream 
by night. 

SALGAR. 

I found an apple-tree in the wood. I planted it in 
my garden. Thine eye beheld it all in flower. For 
every bloom we marked, I count an apple of gold. 
To-morrow I will pull the fruit for you. come, my 
best beloved ! 

MORNA. 

When the gossamer melts in the air, and the furze 
crackles in the beam of moon, come to Cona's sunny 
side, and let thy flocks wander in our vallies. The 
heath is in flower. One tree rises in the midst. Sweet 
flows the river by its side of age. The wild bee hides 
his honey at its root. Our words will be sweet on the 
sunny hill. Till grey evening shadow the plain, I will 
sing to my well-beloved. 



317 



THE VANITY OF OUR DESIRE OF IMMOR- 
TALITY HERE : 

A STORY, IN THE EASTERN MANNER. 

Child of the years to come, attend to the words of 
Calem ; — Calem, who hath seen fourteen kings upon 
the throne of China, whose days are a thousand four 
hundred thirty and nine years. 

Thou, young man ! who rejoicest in thy vigour ; 
the days of my strength were as thine. My possessions 
were large, and fair as the gardens of Paradise. My 
cattle covered the vallies ; and my flocks were as the 
grass on Mount Tirza. Gold was brought me from the 
ocean, and jewels from the Valley of Serpents. Yet I 
was unhappy ; for I feared the sword of the angel of 
Death. 

One day, as I was walking through the woods which 
grew around my palace, I heard the song of the birds : 
but I heard it without joy. On the contrary, their 
cheerfulness filled me with melancholy. I threw my- 
self on a ' ank of flowers, and gave vent to my discon- 
tent in these words : " The time of the singing of birds 
is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard.* These 
trees spread their verdant branches above me, and be- 
neath the flowers bloom fair. The whole creation re- 

* Cant. ii. 12. 



SIS THE VANITY OF OUR DESIRE 

joices in its existence. I alone am unhappy. Why am 
I unhappy ? What do I want ? Nothing. But what 
avail my riches,, when in a little I must leave them ? 
What is the life of man ? His days are but a thousand 
years! As the waves of the ocean ; such are the gene- 
rations of man : The foremost is dashed on the shore, 
and another comes rolling on.* As the leaves of a tree ; 
so are the children of men : They are scattered abroad 
by the wind, and other leaves lift their green heads. 
So, the generations before us are gone ; this shall pass 
away, and another race arise. How, then, can I be 
glad, when in a few centuries I shall be no more ? 
Thou Eternal, why hast thou cut off the life of man ? 
and why are his days so few ? " 

I held my peace. Immediately the sky was black 
with the clouds of night. A tempest shook the trees of 
the forest : the thunder roared from the top of Tirza, and 
the red bolt shot through the darkness. Terror and 
amazement seized me ; and the hand of him before 
whom the sun is extinguished, was upon me. ' ' Calem/' 
said he, (while my bones trembled), " I have heard 
thee accusing me. Thou desirest life ; enjoy it. I have 
commanded Death, that he touch thee not." 

* " Si, quia perpetuus nulli datur usus, et hseres 

Hseredem alterius, velut unda supervenit undam, 
Quid vici prosunt, aut horrea V 

Horace, Epis. ii. 2. 
" Since thus no mortal properly can have 
A lasting tenure ; and as wave o'er wave 
Heir comes o'er heir, what pleasure can afford 
Thy peopled manors and encreasing board." 

Francis' Translation. 



OF IMMORTALITY HERE. Si 9 

Again the clouds dispersed ; arid the sun chased the 
shadows along the hills. The birds renewed their scng. 
sweeter than ever before I had heard them. I cast mine 
eyes over my fields, while my heart exulted with joy. 
ie These/' said I, (i are mine for ever! " But I knew 
not that sorrow waited for me, 

As I was returning home, I met the beautiful Selima 
walking across the fields. The rose blushed in her 
cheeks; and her eyes were as the stars of the morning. 
Never before had I looked with a partial eye on wo- 
man. I gazed ; I sighed ; I trembled. I led her to my 
house, and made her mistress of my riches. 

As the young plants grow up around the cedar : so 
my children grew up in my hall. 

Now my happiness was complete. My children 
married ; and I saw my descendents in the third gene- 
ration. I expected to see them overspread the kingdom, 
and that I should obtain the crown of China. 

I had now lived a thousand years ; and the hand of 
time had withered my strength. My wife, my sons, 
and my daughters, died ; and I was a stranger among 
my people. I was a burden to them ; they hated me, 
and drove me from my house. Naked and miserable, 
I wandered ; my tottering legs scarce supported my 
body. I went to the dwellings of my friends ; but they 
were gone, and other masters chid me from their doors. 
I retired to the woods ; and, in a cave, lived with the 
beasts of the earth. Berries and roots were my meat ; 
and I drank of the stream of the rock. I was scorched 
with the summer's sun ; and shivered in the cold of 
winter. I was weary of life. 



320 THE VANITY OF OUR DESIRE, &C. 

One day I wandered from the woods, to view the 
palace which was once mine. I saw it ; but it was low. 
Fire had consumed it : It lay as a rock cast down by 
an earthquake. Nettles sprung up in the court ; and 
from within the owl scream'd hideous. The fox looked 
out at the windows :* the rank grass of the wall waved 
around his head. I was filled with grief at the remem- 
brance of what it, and what I had been. u Cursed be 
the day/' I said, "in which I desired to live for ever. 
And why, thou Supreme 1 didst thou grant my re- 
quest ? Had it not been for this, I had been at peace ; 
I had been asleep in the quiet grave ; I had not known 
the desolation of my inheritance ; I had been free from 
the weariness of life. I seek for death, but I find it 
not : my life is a curse unto me/' 

A shining cloud descended on the trees; and Gabriel 
the angel stood before me. His voice was as the roar- 
ing stream, while thus he declared his message: "Thus 
saith the Highest, What shall I do unto thee, 
Calem? What dost thou now desire? Thou askedst life, 
and I gave it thee, even to live for ever. Now thou art 
weary of living ; and again thou hast opened thy mouth 
against me." 

* Ossian already quoted, see note p. 201, 



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